Close Your Eyes
by Akay2901
Summary: Angel finds Buffy in an institution in L.A. after thinking her dead for the past two years... detailed summary inside. Winner at Spike Threw The Heart and Reborn Desires Awards
1. Default Chapter

**TITLE:** Close Your Eyes  
**AUTHOR:** Akay  
**DISCLAIMER:** Buffy and Angel etc. belong to Joss, I wish they were mine!  
**DISTRIBUTION:** My site Wtss. Or please ask!  
**TIMELINE:** 5 years post Not Fade Away  
**SUMMARY:** Six years after Buffy's final battle, Angel finds her in an institution in L.A after thinking her dead for two years. Frightened and alone, the slayer is but a fraction of the girl she used to be, and can only be spoken to through dreams. With no one left to turn to, and no grip on reality, will Angel be able to come to her rescue, or will he lose her yet again?  
**RATING:** R  
**DEDICATION:** To Jennie... Happy Birthday for eleven days ago sweetie... or you can just pretend that today is your birthday, so that means I'm not late  
**AN:** Okay this is a little out there, but I had to write it. It is very angsty, so be warned.  
**AN2:** So I was going to wait until I completed the fic before posting it, but I came to realize I suck at doing that. Pls don't be mad  
**AN3:** / denotes dialogue taken from the show, and italics denote flashbacks  
**FEEDBACK:** Because it's so crazy and out there, I NEED it, so please?

* * *

**Chapter 1  
**

White walls. They were her safe haven, her home. The feel of the cool, rough, cement under the palms of her hands made her feel protected, whole. Like she was something, like she was someone. The mere thought of something cold was familiar in her world, a world where nothing was the same.

There was no explanation. No reason why something cold against her warm skin felt like a missing piece to her splintered soul. She wouldn't even try to find the answers. What was the point when she didn't even understand who she was herself?

She used to be the girl that everyone depended on. So strong, sweet, funny and beautiful. But now, only those that knew and loved her would be able to see that girl, that slayer. But those loved ones were all gone. Dead, and in the cruellest way imaginable.

But she no longer understood cruel, she was beyond that. After everything she'd seen, experienced, touched, tasted, and cried for... she finally fell.

A shadow of her former self, Jane Doe was one of the most difficult patients the doctors in the institution had ever dealt with. She would barely eat, wouldn't listen, wouldn't do anything other than shout poorly constructed sentences in which to everyone around her, added up to nothing.

Her waken hours were spent dealing with each minute as though it lasted an eternity. Pounding her fists against the wall, until it was stained with her crimson blood. The same cool wall that bore some kind of a resemblance to a normalcy she'd long forgotten.

Jane would then beg them to kill the demons. To help her rid the world of vampires. That was the only thing they could distinguish, well that and what the doctors thought were names being shouted at random. The worst thing was, she slept through the day, and was always awake at night. Which in turn made their job so much more difficult.

Early mornings on every single day, as dawn approached, and the golden rays of the sun peaked through the window near the ceiling, yet did a poor job of providing her room with any real light, everything she had gotten her hands on would be torn to shreds. Then after she'd battled her inner demons for the day, Jane would collapse into a fit of tears, unable to comprehend the pain.

Once she had cried herself beyond the point of exhaustion, Jane would find her way over to her bare mattress and lay there. Curling up into a ball, and rocking herself to sleep.

When she was lost in her dreams the doctors saw a different girl. One that was silent, unaffected by the darkness that ruled her world when she was awake. One thing they noted was that she was content, truly happy even, as she was talking to an angel.

No one visited, no one knew her to care. Well that was at least until the nurses discovery that day.

As the blonde slept, the grey haired nurse conversed with the doctors about a returned phone call. One that she had originally placed in search of any remaining family about three months ago when the slayer had first been brought to their institution.

When she spoke to the man she only knew as Angel, she never told him the real way she had come across his number, that it was in the worn book the police had found on her. No, she told him that she was referred to his agency as they dealt with the... paranormal was the way she had put it.

Margaret the nurse knew that there was something paranormal about her, the girl that to this day, had no name. She was strong, quick, and if you pushed her too far, would break your limbs, possibly even your neck.

The nurse never advised Angel of that though, she couldn't scare him away without finding out why this blonde was so strong. Instead she let him believe that Jane was just a little confused.

* * *

Angel was pretty sure that she wouldn't be too pleased about him doing this. Going in and trying to rescue another slayer that had most likely suffered the same kind of torment that Dana had.

But then again it was his city, and there was no way that Buffy could stop him. Even if he wanted her to.

It bugged him more than he thought possible that Buffy hadn't trusted him, because really what was so bad about what he'd done? So he'd taken over Wolfram and Hart, he had after all defeated them in the end. He wasn't evil, why couldn't she have seen that?

Why couldn't he have found a way to show her that they hadn't turned him? Why didn't he do something other than let her leave him with a promise of someday? Why did he find out about her death from Spike of all people?

They were questions he asked himself all the time, and they really got him no where. Nothing would bring her back. He'd tried and didn't succeed, and still to this day he hadn't managed to find a way to put it behind him.

* * *

When Darkness crept over the sky Angel made the drive over to the institution.

He hated places like this. It was so depressing that people had lost their grip on reality so much so that it came to the point of them having to be locked up, in what he could only describe as a cold and empty cell. Living with nothing but their own guilt and remorse over what they could never truly understand.

But most of the time, it wasn't their fault; Angel knew that first hand, Drusilla being the example. The things he had done to her, driven her to the point of complete madness, and for what? His own amusement.

Shaking the thoughts away, reminding himself that it wasn't him, it was Angelus. He continued his walk down the hospitals halls, if that's what it was, a hospital. Either way they always reminded him of Buffy, of how much she hated them.

Without warning something passed through him, almost knocking him off his feet, that all too familiar tingle at the base of his spine. Oh no it wasn't, there was no way, so he just needed to put her behind him once and for all, and forget.

Forget just like she had forgotten him before she died.

Walking up to the reception, he tapped the small bell that sat in the center of the marble counter, and waited. All the while pushing away thoughts of a blonde that had driven him to the point of complete madness from forbidden love alone. That's when Angel wondered, why was it that he wasn't the one that was locked up in one of those cold and empty cells himself?

The way he had loved her, had sent him crazy time and time again. And yet there he was, a visitor, instead of an in-patient.

They walked slowly towards her room. Margaret telling him the tale of this slayer, that they weren't exactly sure what it was that had happened to her, only that everything that came out of her mouth, made no sense at all.

* * *

"No, no, kill... all dead." The screams had already started for the night, and Angel felt his heart go out to the girl. Her call was so primal, like she was meant to stop something, or save someone. As though something had stood in her way and now she was paying for it. If only he knew what and who.

When the nurse opened the door Angel stepped inside. He took note of the fact that the lights had been switched off, and the room was almost pitch black. Had it not been for the sliver of moonlight streaming through the small window that offered them a limited view of a few glistening stars, it would have been hard for anyone to navigate their way through the room. Anyone but Angel. Or any other demon with the bonus enhanced vision working on their side.

"She doesn't like the light." Margaret said as she noticed Angel looking up towards the ceiling.

As that didn't seem to be a problem for the vampire, he ventured in a little further, stopping only when he'd reached the center of the large square room. Angel could make out a small blonde huddled into a ball in one of its corners. Her hair covering her face, and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, which were pulled up and secured against her chest.

He took a few steps closer, and tried to distinguish her ramblings. "Cold, cold, BURN. Kill her; kill them all, dead, dead, DEAD!" She continued to chant, jerking back into the corner each time she felt it. That weird tingle at the base of her spine, the confused slayer had no idea what it meant. Nor did she want to. Whenever she felt something, it was always bad, and she had to attack. Attack and kill, wasn't that what she'd been taught?

She thought as much, but sometimes her memory seemed to have a sick obsession with playing tricks on her.

The frightened slayer didn't realize that with each step Angel took to get closer to her, she was pulling away; unaware of what was going on.

"What's her name?" He whispered to Margaret.

"Jane Doe." Margaret replied "Not real original, but this girl's a mystery." She said as she took a few steps back, waiting for the small yet so strong blonde to lunge at them. Margaret had been a victim of her attacks before, and that was her reason alone for closing the door behind her as she stepped out leaving Angel alone with her. Being the private investigator that he was, Margaret was certain he would be able to defend himself.

"Jane." Angel whispered, as he crouched down beside her. He reached out placing his hand on her elbow, trying to gently unravel it from around her legs so that he could see her face.

"No, no, name, no, no... GO AWAY! Fire, burn, KILL. Killed them... dead, all dead." She sobbed burying her head deeper, afraid to look up. What if it was another one of those evil illusions, where she swore till she was blue in the face that he was there, he who could not be named? Her stupid sick memory wasn't so good anymore, and she couldn't put the pieces together. In fact even thinking seemed an effort. When things wouldn't make sense, she would begin pounding her fists against her brow, unable to contain her frustration. Much like she was now.

Angel paused a moment, waiting for her to calm herself again.

There was something about her, something so familiar, and something that for no reason at all; Angel just couldn't put his finger on. Her voice, why was it that when she spoke, even though it was in hysterics, it made him feel so... he didn't know, but he could have sworn it sounded just like...

"Daw... dead, all... all dead. I killed, me, me, me... bad slayer." She continued to mumble, unable to even say her sister's name, or was it that she had forgotten that as well?

"Who, who is dead Jane?" He asked, wanting to know what it was about her voice, a second ago he could have sworn that... no he couldn't go there, wouldn't, Buffy was dead, not here, not like this. Even though he wasn't sure which he'd prefer. Alive yet suffering like this, or peaceful in heaven, where she deserved to be. He knew instantly which scenario he preferred "No Buffy's dead." He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud, until he heard her reaction.

"Name, name, Buff, name... dead." She said pulling her face up and out of its hiding place between her knees.

That was it. The icy ring that had circled his heart the day he'd heard of her untimely death suddenly tightened. So much so that he felt his heart explode into a million little pieces. Frozen solid, unable to will himself to move, Angel couldn't even think straight.

Seconds later when the shock wore off, the realization finally set in and he quickly jerked his hand away. "No, you're dead, you're dead." He kept repeating as his head shook from side to side. How could this be? How could Buffy be right there? And like that, in the state that she was. This wasn't real, this wasn't happening.

"Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead..." Buffy continued until she broke out into uncontrollable sobs.

Angel now kneeling on the floor beside her, gently reached out again, and gingerly glided his outstretched fingers across her cheek. He didn't even bother to pull away when she flinched because he had to know what this was; he had to make sure it was real, that she was real.

When he made contact the realization hit, and a single tear found its escape, gliding down his pale cheek. "Buffy." He choked out. She was really there, really alive, and really sick.

Something suddenly struck her. Familiarity or fear, neither could be determined. It was the way he said her name that must have triggered something within her, because the blonde snapped her head straight up to his, finding herself staring into his dark eyes. "NO! DEAD!" She howled, and when Angel reached out to comfort her, she pushed him away, knocking him flat on his back from the one blow alone.

She scrambled to her feet, her hands and knees slipping on the marble floor tiles as she did. Her bruised palms skimmed over the rough cement rendered walls as Buffy searched the room for an escape. But there was nothing, and in there, she also had nothing to defend herself with. No stake, no holy water, no weapons that had they been presented to her, instinct would have prevailed, and she would know exactly how to use them.

Banging her fists against the wall she started screaming, her first tantrum as the doctors would say, for the night. "Vampire, kill, kill vampire, kill." she shouted over and over until two men in white coats burst through the door and flicked the light switch on. Charging into the room, they tried to get a hold of her to sedate her. "No, No, vampire, kill." She spat squinting from the harsh lights above, as she struggled for release while they laid her down on her bed.

"No, no." Buffy wailed as she kicked in all directions, missing the men each time.

Margaret then walked in, after having witnessed the entire display from the monitor in the nurse's quarters. With a syringe in hand she headed straight for Buffy.

"What are you doing?" Angel asked, every part of his body telling him to pull the two men away from Buffy and break their necks for harming her.

"She needs to be sedated; this will knock her out for about an hour." She said as she stabbed the needle into Buffy's upper arm, the one that one of the men had a firm grip of.

"Don't." Angel demanded, but it was too late, the needle was already in, the sedative now flowing through her body, and her eyelids slowly fluttering closed.

"She'll be up in another hour; we need to give her this one to wear her out, so she's not too rambunctious for the night." She laughed, and then watched as he slowly approached Buffy on the bed.

Once the rumble of the vampire's growl reached the two men's ears, they moved out of his way, and Angel gently eased himself down on the bed beside her. He didn't touch her for a moment, scared of disturbing her when she looked so peaceful. Instead he just watched, amazed that she was alive, and deeply saddened that she was here, in the institution, the only thing resembling her former self... her undeniable beauty.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"She's smiling." Angel noticed, as he remained by her side, waiting for her to wake.

They'd told him that it would be much better if he left, as she had already had enough for the one night, but he just couldn't bring himself to. There was no way that after believing her dead for the past two years that he could turn his back on her now.

Saying a wordless goodbye as the smoke settled between them years ago had been a mistake. Buffy never should have been left on her own, she was never meant to amount to this. A fragile soul with nothing and no one.

He had to be there for her, he had to be her someone.

"Sweet Dreams." Margaret said, smiling herself, still standing in the door way watching the blonde sleep. The nurse was glad that she could at least find solace in her dreams.

"Huh?" Angel asked

"The smiling." She pointed in Buffy's direction. "Sometimes she talks in her sleep, she dreams of a guardian angel that never leaves her."

The words hit the vampire like a blow to the chest "An angel?" He asked, watching Buffy as she took in each breath. What could it mean? If she was dreaming of an angel could it possibly be...

"Angel." Buffy sighed, rolling on her side so that she was facing the vampire.

Angel said nothing. Couldn't even if he tried. All that seemed to be going through his mind was 'If only I'd known.' Three months she'd been there, and only today had he found that out.

Gunn really wasn't that good at passing on messages. And of all things to blame it on, he used the excuse that during the end of days fight he'd lost a lot of blood, and so therefore it had done things to his head, somehow affecting his memory. But Angel believed it to be the fact that he'd drunk so much since Fred and Wesley's deaths that he just didn't care about anything anymore.

"Yeah, I think she love's him." Margaret said before leaving the vampire alone with Jane, or Buffy as they now knew her name.

Brushing a strand of golden hair away from her face Angel just looked over her for a moment. "He loves her too." he whispered, before leaning in and smoothing her brow with a kiss, then leaving her to have a chat with the nurse.

* * *

Angel stepped out into the cool night air, not that it affected him either way, hot or cold it was all the same to the vampire. Margaret was already outside, puffing away on one of her menthol cigarettes.

"So how do you know her?" Margaret asked, returning the cigarette to her lips, and holding it there a moment as she drew the deadly smoke into her lungs.

"Huh?" Angel's head snapped up to look at her, how did she know? "I don't." He quickly added, walking past her and over to his car, he had to get out of there, just being near her, and knowing that it wasn't the same Buffy, that she was buried so deep down within that body that she would never come out, was heartbreaking.

"Really?" Margaret questioned as she threw her cigarette butt on the ground and her heavy foot came down, extinguishing it. "Well then, why did you call her Buffy? And for that matter why was your name in a book the police found on her?"

"Book?" Angel inquired, closing the door to his car that he had just opened. "What kind of book?" He asked slowly approaching the nurse.

"I'm not sure, when we took it in to her to ask who the number scribbled on the inside belonged to, she snatched it away, and we haven't gotten our hands on it since. There's a photo in there as well, I never noticed it when we had it in our possession, but sometimes when she looks at it, she cries and then falls asleep. So we just know not to touch the book." Margaret said, remembering a time when one of the doctors had tried to pry it from her hands, and had ended up bruised and battered. To this day he was still on crutches.

"So you never saw the photo?" Angel needed to know.

"No, it was stuck in the back, and we never noticed it until she peeled it out." Margaret said before taking a few steps closer, she had a few questions of her own for the tall dark stranger who she only knew as Angel. "Now you tell me something... what happened to her?" Maybe this phone call hadn't been a waste of time after all; maybe this Angel would answer a lot of questions.

Angel froze, and for the first time he gave himself the chance to really think about it. Since he'd found out Buffy was alive he couldn't think of anything but that, and the fact that she was very sick. But now just like Margaret he wanted to know why, in fact he needed to know.

He recalled the soul shattering day so clearly, as though he had only lived it but a day before, and he remembered Spike's voice as he answered the phone.

Angel had just gotten out of the shower, and he wore nothing but a fluffy white towel to cover his dripping wet pale flesh.

The moment the other vampire had passed on the message the handset fell, crashing to the floor, where it broke on impact.

He had stumbled over to the couch, and slumped down, Spike's words playing over and over in his mind. "There was a fire, and... Buffy's dead." That was all the blonde vampire had managed to get out, well it was all Angel had heard before letting the phone slip from his grasp.

He'd later found out that Giles, Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Faith had all also been victims to the incineration that took place in the newly reformed watcher's council the group had set up in England.

There wasn't a thing he hadn't tried to find out. Like why, and most importantly who. He'd even gone to the ends of the earth, and when that had failed to turn up anything. He'd searched through just about every world for vengeance, but he never found it. Eventually he gave up, and tried to push the thought of her out of his mind. At first it was hard, and the idea alone of getting through a single hour without her being just a phone call away was unbearable.

There were times when he'd come so close to taking his own life, just to take away the pain, even for a minute at the very least. But with each passing day it got easier, and before Angel knew it he had suppressed her memory so deep within himself it was as though he never knew a girl named Buffy.

In the process of doing that he'd managed to alienate himself from the rest of the world. And when it came to doing his job, and saving people, well Angel did it with no compassion what so ever. If he saved them, then it was great, if not, he'd shrug it off and get on with his worthless existence.

"I need to see it." Angel said, following Margaret back into the institution, hoping that against all odds the picture that Buffy kept guarded might be able to help answer a few questions. Although he already understood what had driven her to the point of complete madness.

"I don't like your chances." The nurse returned, walking past the vampire and into the building as he held the door open.

Following close behind Angel was sure that if he were just gentle with Buffy, she'd let him see what she kept hidden from the rest of the world.

* * *

There was no way that an entire hour could have passed while he was outside talking to Margaret. Ten, twenty minute's maybe, but not an hour. He remembered that the nurse had said that the sedative would last for an hour, yet there she was, the slayer, tearing her room to pieces.

Angel watched through the Perspex square window on her door. As the hours passed he noted her every move. First her meal tray and its contents were discarded, lying there upside down, scattered on the floor. Her bed sheets torn, as the frantic slayer searched the room, over and over for an escape.

He watched as she went through the motions. First there was pure anger, which was the fuel behind her quest for revenge. A revenge she took out on the wall, her clenched fists pounding against it, over and over until she saw the blood. Then as guilt and frustration passed, the pure agony of her sorrow set in, and then finally the tears came, hot and thick, sliding down her milky cheeks.

She hadn't been out in the sun for so long now, he could just tell as her once golden skin was paler than his own. Angel couldn't believe that the girl before him really was the most powerful in the world. She seemed so fragile, as though at any moment she was going to break. Physically, she seemed almost half her size, and Buffy was slim to begin with.

But most of all he just couldn't believe that Buffy, who was once his Buffy had come to this. What had happened? Where was everyone? Why had they just abandoned her and left her to become this?

"Hot, fire, burn, dead, dead! Tried, I... I couldn- DEAD!" She screamed as the tears flowed, the moment one found its release another would follow its path, down her hollow cheeks. As she knelt on the floor, her bleeding fists pulled tightly to her chest, the pain of her past once again set in, doing its job of making her suffer for another night.

Angel tried to decipher her words, but everything she said was so random that when he tried to piece it all together, he kept drawing blanks. And yet still his mind continued to play the words over and over. Hot. Fire. Burn. Dead. Tried. I couldn't?

What did it all mean?

Suddenly it hit him. Buffy, she had died in a fire, or so he had been told. They all had. Giles, Willow, Xander, Faith, and Dawn... She'd lost everything, every single person she held dear, was gone. Now there was nothing, no one she could turn to. For the past two years, the slayer had been lost; it was only her shell that the police had found three months ago.

He couldn't believe it, everything that ever held meaning in her life was dead, and by the looks of things she blamed herself.

Angel was startled out of his thoughts when one of the doctors nudged him out of the way to get to her room. When the door opened the vampire wanted to rush inside, fall to his knees and take her in his arms. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, even if he knew it was a lie.

Instead he stopped the door that the doctor had pushed shut from actually closing with his foot and watched as the doctor tried to approach her and bandage her battered hands.

"NO!" The slayer screamed as she rose to her feet and brought her arm up and around her neck, as though she had a baseball bat within her grasp. Buffy then elbowed the doctor in the face.

Angel ran into the room then, taking it as his cue. Stepping over the doctor who was now lying unconscious on the floor, he approached the distraught slayer. "Buffy, it's me." He whispered, raising his hands in a sign of surrender as he noticed her flinch, ready to attack him as well.

She didn't respond, just stood there appearing as though she were contemplating her next move. The door was wide open; she could make a run for it. Then she could find something or someone that could help her put an end to all this suffering.

"Buffy, do you remember?" He questioned, although he was almost positive she'd forgotten. It appeared as though she didn't even remember herself, so who was he? No one but another person that had inflicted pain on her once gentle and loving heart.

Bringing her bloodied fists to her forehead, pushing her eyebrows together, she shook her head. The few strands of her blonde locks shaping her face were now stained with that blood. "No, no name, no Buff." She murmured over and over.

He felt helpless, as though the one person he would do anything for, give anything to save, and yet he couldn't. Buffy was beyond saving.

Not knowing what to say, or what to do, and with no one to turn to for help he tried the only thing he could think of, that he knew would calm her. Hoping against hope that it would do the job while she was conscious.

"I'm Angel; I think I'm the same angel you dream about... I won't hurt you. I want to help, I want to make thin-"

"Angel?" She questioned, as though the name was so familiar, yet hard to place at the same time. And yet she said it the same way she always had. That soft breathy whisper that no matter always came out a question.

He shivered, the way his name escaped her lips would always without fail have the same affect on him. The vampire took a step closer, was this recognition or was she just questioning his name? As though it were something else that was foreign in her world, a world that had forgotten her and let her become this. And after everything she had done to save it, time and time again... this was her reward.

'Powers be damned.' The vampire thought to himself.

"Do you remember?" He asked, there were but three small steps separating the pair, and Angel found himself fighting every part of his body not to clear them.

"Remember." She repeated scrunching her brows in confusion. "Never forget, never forget, never forget." She chanted over and over, before she found herself on her knees, and her tears returning once again.

Angel didn't know what to do with himself. How could she... but they had told him... there was no explanation for the two words she had uttered. He was told she would never recall the day, and yet it appeared that it couldn't have been further from the truth. She remembered, in fact she seemed to have remembered him and a day that time forgot before she did her own name.

Watching her, and the pure agony making its way through her body, Angel did the only thing he could. Taking a few steps back he bent over, grasped the bandages from beside the unconscious doctor and returned to the blonde. Kneeling beside her, he took her hands in his, ignoring her flinch, he then set out to cover the fresh wounds.

The entire night, Angel was there with her, trying to make her understand who she was. But with each attempt, she would scream at him, while pressing her bandaged fists against her ears. That was when Angel saw just how lost she was, and that she didn't want to be found.

A few hours later he tried to feed her, but she refused to eat. The nurses informed him that she would usually wait until she was starving before even considering food. He knew that it wasn't right, and he wanted to force feed her, but he couldn't alienate himself from her completely when he had only just started making some sort of progress.

Not long after that Buffy finally fell asleep. Today the blonde had been so exhausted she hadn't even managed to make it over to the bed. Gently Angel raised her in his arms, and carried her. Lying her down on the bare mattress, Angel was about to leave, until she called out to him.

"Angel." She whispered, lost in her dreams.

He paused, turning back around to face her.

"Don't go to work today, sleep in." She smiled, her eyes still closed, her body relaxing against the bed.

She was dreaming, Angel could tell, and it broke his heart just watching her. There she was, the Buffy he remembered. Smiling, loving, caring and warm, a contrast to the one he had spent the night with. And yet he loved them both just as much.

"Please?" She begged, still fast asleep as she scooted over, making room for him on the single bed. "Liam doesn't get home until this afternoon. Let's take advantage of that." She whispered, a sultry smile gracing her lips.

Angel had no idea who Liam was, obviously someone she was dreaming up, regardless, he gave in. Lying down beside her; he wrapped his arms around her tiny form.

Buffy sighed, snuggling closer against him. "Better." She whispered, as Angel's brow found its resting place in the crook of her neck.

Securing her firmly against his cold dead body, he softly whispered "I'm going to take care of you." Then sleep over came him too.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

It had been so long since he'd felt the warm rays of the Californian sun, or any for that matter, on his bare flesh, and that was what woke him. Startled Angel jumped up in bed thinking that at any second now he was about to combust. To his surprise that wasn't what happened.

"Hey, bad dream?" She sat up beside him on the bed, holding the sheets to her chest.

"Huh?" Angel whipped his head around only to come face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, that creature being Buffy.

"Buffy, I ah... how?" He didn't understand, they weren't in the institution anymore, and she wasn't the distraught girl he'd found yesterday. No, now instead they were together in a king size bed, the warm sun finding its way in through the opened window which Angel noted had a beautiful view of the ocean. But a view so much more beautiful than that seemed to have caught his attention. That view being Buffy.

There she was, golden skin, long blonde tresses falling past her shoulders, and white cotton sheets pulled up and around her bare chest.

"I was thinking wow, but maybe we're not on the same page here." Buffy smiled, scooting closer and running her fingers through his dishevelled dark hair. "And I was also thinking that I should thank you again for calling in sick today." Buffy purred before closing the distance between them and sealing his lips with a kiss.

Angel couldn't seem to get his head around what was happening. But a moment ago she was so lost and frightened, and now she was kissing him. For just one moment he decided he didn't want an explanation, all he wanted was her. So he returned her kiss, with as much passion as she showed him. Using his tongue to separate her lips, he plunged it inside her mouth, only to stifle a moan from Buffy.

He smiled against her mouth, it was just like it always was between them, she had always been so responsive to his kisses and touches. As he laid her back down on the bed, Angel tugged at the sheets covering her naked form, prying them away before blanketing her body with his own.

He figured this was a dream, why else would he have the chance to make love to the only woman in his world? And that was why he didn't stop.

But as he started to give way to the feelings sweeping over him, he was pulled away, by what he wasn't sure.

Whatever it was, it happened in the blink of an eye, and there he was, standing by the opened window, dressed in his usual heavy black clothing, and watching the image of himself make love to Buffy on the bed.

Before he could question what was going on, she appeared beside him. His love, or at least someone who wore her same beautiful face. Cautiously Angel looked her up and down, before turning slightly and taking a small step closer. "Buffy?" He asked.

A small smile graced her lips, and she returned his greeting "Angel." She said with a nod of her head.

He took it as a signal, that it was okay, and that he could come closer. "Are you a dream too?" He questioned, hoping against hope that she wasn't.

"In a way, I guess." She replied, the small smile slipping away, as she turned her attention to the bed, watching herself with Angel.

Following her gaze, Angel wondered why the sight before them seemed to upset her. "What's going on?" He asked, maybe he could get some answers to her condition, and find a way to bring her back to him.

"We're so happy here; I don't want to go back." She said, her eyes still locked with the image of the bed and the life they had here, even if it was only in a land of dreams.

Angel agreed, wherever they were they did appear to have everything they had ever wanted. But it wasn't real, if anything it served as a cruel reminder to something that would always be unattainable. "I don't understand Buffy, here everything's perfect, but when we wake up..."

"Please Angel." She turned her attention back to him, tears shimmering in her emerald eyes "Please don't wake me. Back there everything's so damn hard, and it hurts, it hurts so much." Her tears slipped out past her lashes, and gently tumbled down her cheeks.

Reaching out he cupped her cheek and smeared them away with the pad of his thumb. "How do I make it right, how can I make you better?" He almost begged.

"Don't wake me." Was the last thing Angel heard her say before his eyes snapped open, those three words still echoing in his mind as he found himself lying beside a sleeping Buffy in the institution.

And that was his breaking point.

* * *

Angel ran, ran as fast as he could, in fact he could never recall having run so fast in his life. Skidding through the institutions halls at every twist and turn until he was met with closed double glass doors. Reaching for the handle he turned it quickly and pulled it open; glad to see that the sun had set on yet another day in L.A. the city that had brought nothing but pain into his life.

Running for his car, he quickly jumped inside and fumbled with the keys until he had the right one. Frantically he shoved it in the ignition, kicking the engine over and flooring the gas pedal. Speeding off towards the bright lights of Los Angeles, Angel vowed that he would never set foot in the institution again.

Buffy, the love of his eternal life, the only woman that would ever mean anything to the vampire, was now so broken and cut of from the real world that just being near her, tore his cold dead heart into a million little pieces.

As he drove away he kept telling himself that he couldn't be put through this, after everything he'd seen over the last few years, this would be the thing to kill him, and he couldn't allow that. It was better when he didn't care, life was easier. Lonely sure, but he was used to that. He could deal with having no-one so much more than he could deal with the idea of Buffy pushing him away as she sunk deeper and deeper into the never ending pit of her own misery.

As his tears streamed down his face Angel knew that staying away from her, and shutting himself down, was the only way that he could ever deal with his own existence.

One that without the old Buffy being a part of, meant nothing at all.

* * *

As he entered the apartment, Angel made his presence known by slamming the door behind him. Then he waited, but he got no response.

Flicking on the lights, he wasn't even shocked to find that the living room floor had become the dumping ground for another day of alcohol abuse.

Kicking empty beer bottles out of his path, the vampire headed straight for his friend's room. A dry chuckle escaped his lips at the thought alone. Some friend Gunn had turned out to be.

A simple message, that's all he had been asked to do. But no, he was too busy drinking and finding the cheapest whore he could to make him feel anything akin to a warmth he hadn't felt in years.

When Angel reached the door, he didn't even need to open it to know that Gunn had passed out, his heavy breathing told the vampire that much. However the fact that he was unconscious wasn't about to stop Angel. Bursting through the door he found that Gunn had rolled off his own bed where a brunette was sound asleep, and onto the floor.

Picking his friend up by the collar, with incredible force Angel threw an intoxicated Gunn into the nearby wall. And it was only then that Gunn awoke.

"You bastard! All you had to do was pass on one message, but no you were too busy getting drunk and screwing anything that would accept what little money you have." Angel said gesturing to the brunette that was now wide awake, thanks to the commotion brought on by the angry vampire. "The girl in the institution, it's Buffy, she's really sick, and if I had of known in time, there's a very good chance that I could have spared her from becoming what she is." That was all that came out of his mouth before once again the mist of tears that had been so visible to even the drunkest of the drunk, spilled over and fell down the vampires face.

Why was it that the tears always seemed to come when they weren't welcomed? He couldn't afford to cry now, he was angry, and ready to attack, blubbering like an idiot wasn't about to help.

But the thought of Buffy being so sick, did that to him.

"Angel you got the message didn't you?" Gunn asked as he slowly and painfully rose to his feet. The room seemed to be spinning at an incredible pace. His head was pounding, and the urge to vomit was so strong. At no point did he show any kind of empathy towards the vampire. Sure it was sad that his ex was in the Looney bin, but Gunn had bigger things to worry about... like getting this whore out before she stole all his money and God knows what else. And of course getting his hands on some aspirin... aspirin would really help.

"No thanks to you." Angel bit out. "Tell me Gunn; if I hadn't of found the message scribbled down on the back of the phone book three months later at that, how much longer would you have made me wait, how much worse would she have been?" Angel snarled, and for one second he was so damn close to baring his fangs, and possibly even sinking them into Gunn's throat.

No he couldn't think like that, he was good, he had a soul. So that meant no killing humans... right?

"I'm sorry." That was it, that was his lame attempt of making it up to his friend. Enhanced hearing or not, anyone would have been able to tell that there was no sincerity in his apology, that if anything it was a little forced.

"Not good enough." the vampire hissed, before backing away and heading for the door he had only entered but minutes ago. "I want you gone, you've become worthless, and just seeing you right now makes me want to do somethi-"

"That you might regret?" Gunn finished, knowing where the vampire was going with this.

Turning to face his once friend, Angel couldn't help but speak the truth, even if this was the same friend that had fought by his side time and time again. None of it mattered, not when it came to Buffy. "That's just it; I don't think I would regret it." Angel calmly stated before making his exit, only to find some peace in his own room.

* * *

Margaret watched from the monitor in the reception as the blonde woke, and frantically went about searching her room. The nurse hoped that maybe Buffy would bring out the book she had snatched from them months ago.

Margaret was relying on the fact that the camera in the slayers room would aid the staff in seeing who it was in the photograph she kept hidden. One that they all had a feeling would be the solution to helping her get better. Maybe it was because of the fact that whenever the slayers eyes feel upon the person in it, there was a look of love so pure that it out-shadowed her pain and heartache, at least for a minute.

But no such luck.

As the hours passed, and they once again sedated the blonde, Buffy whispered something to them as the drug slowly set to work. "Angel... dead." Was the last thing she said before she was out cold.

It was then that Margaret came to realize that it wasn't something that Buffy was searching for, it was in fact someone.

That was when it finally hit her. Buffy wasn't so much dreaming of a guardian angel in the spiritual sense, she was searching and dreaming of Angel, the private investigator that had spent the previous day with her.

After waking to find him gone, Buffy seemed so much more lost than Margaret had ever seen her before. And after she'd made it through another night of bruising her already battered fists; screaming nothings that obviously were so much more than that. Margaret noticed that this time even when Buffy slept, peace never found her. Now it was so much worse, now there were nightmares in its place.

Although the sudden change in dreams would give them the chance to learn so much about the young woman, like what had happened to her, it wouldn't exactly help not only her mental condition, but her physical one as well. One that with each passing day was getting worse, to a point where the medication was failing and the only thing the Doctor's could do, was watch it slowly take her whole.

That was why Margaret couldn't help but hope that after today Angel would come back, even if he had hung up on the nurse when she had tried to reach him the moment Buffy woke. Maybe he would come to realize that this girl needed his help so much more than any of the other helpless out there, in the cold and dark city that was Los Angeles.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 4  
**

_  
/ Angel. I do... sometimes think that far ahead._

_Sometimes is something_

_Be a long time coming. Years, if ever._

_I ain't getting any older. /_

His memory had not failed him, or so it seemed. It was strange that he could recall their last meeting with such clarity, but it was what followed that seemed to be fading. Maybe that was because it was a moment so pure, and perfect that he had pushed it down, burying it so deep within, where it had no chance of resurfacing... until now.

Just before the sun rose over the city, the vampire lay there, thinking of her and everything he'd seen in the last day. That was when he started to remember, as slowly his mind began to unravel something he'd kept locked away for so long.

What Angel remembered was not listening to Buffy when she demanded that he return to L.A and set up that second front. Well not right away. Instead he'd trailed behind, as he drove along, following her back to her home. Then he'd led her up to her surprisingly vacant room, and told her that if this was the last night of their lives, than consequences weren't about to matter.

Little had Buffy known that before taking her upstairs, he had given Willow the heads up on his intentions, and when the Wicca had protested, telling the vampire that it was too dangerous. Angel told her that for once he didn't give a damn, and was willing to be selfish.

The red head gave in, silently agreeing. She wanted her best friend to have one night of happiness before a day where everything could be taken away. The Wicca then prepared the ingredients, so she would be ready to perform the restoration spell early morning if need be.

Behind the locked door of her bedroom, Angel worshiped her. Laying her body down on the bed. Not a single inch of her golden skin was spared from his attention. It was one night where nothing mattered to him but his love for the slayer, and it was also the last time Buffy told him that she loved him.

Then tomorrow came, and Angelus didn't stand a chance against the powerful Wicca, who had been awaiting him. Buffy had also played her part, chaining the sleeping demon to the bed as soon as she woke that morning. But the slayer had refused to stick around as Willow performed the spell, something about not being able to face Angelus again.

It took the Wicca about thirty minutes to bring Angel's soul back to his body. And only then did Buffy return to him.

Their goodbye was bittersweet, because with it, it carried something that told them that this was the end of their time together. Whether they survived this battle or not, somehow they both knew that their chances of ever crossing paths again, were slim to none. So that was another reason why that last night had been so special, it was a beautiful way for them to let go.

With a blanket over his head, he ran to the shelter of his new car. Fit with necrotempered windows, Angel sat there for a long minute holding her gaze, before she was called inside as the SIT's were ready to be given their orders.

Angel then drove back to L.A in record time, and with the second front in place, he waited... and waited.

Nothing.

He smiled. She was fine, he could still feel her.

A few hours later he got the call. The first stop they had made, Buffy had called to tell him she was ok. After that he'd received emails and postcards usually every month or so. But it would have been two months short of a year since their last meeting that everything stopped. No postcards, no emails, no answers to his question when he asked her about the Immortal.

That was when Angel gave up, even though he never wanted to admit that it really was over, or let go of the wonderful memories they had made in the years she'd been a part of his life.

Then came the news of her death, and that was when Angel himself died.

At first he refused to believe it, as the vampire kept telling himself and just about anyone that would listen that she was still alive. He searched the world for her, but every lead turned out to be a joke, as the underworld seemed to think that watching him run around on a wild goose chase was amusing.

Still he didn't give up, wouldn't. He swore over and over that she wasn't dead, as he could still feel her, and her heartache. As time went on, and a few hundred worlds later, finally Angel gave in. She was dead. The heartache he thought he'd felt, was his own. There had been nothing left for him to do but accept it and move on.

To begin with, alcohol seemed the best idea to forget, and he joined Gunn on his drinking binges. The end result was that he would only drink himself sober.

After that he tried Buffy's own remedy, of kicking ass being comfort food. Ironic that he had used something she had taught him, to forget her. But it worked. As each day passed and with each demon slain, slowly he started to forget. The only time that she would pop back into his head was if he worked a case that reminded him of her, saw a glimmer of blonde hair, or when he retired for another day, and found her in his dreams.

Dreams that he forced himself to forget the moment he was conscious.

Now years later, after finding out she was in fact alive, like he had originally thought her to be when he'd first heard of the accident. Angel was trying to do the same thing. Forget her.

But to do that it meant that he would have to let go of everything all over again. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her blonde hair, her loving heart, and now her broken soul. Was he wiling to do that? Could he just give up on her so easily when she needed him now more than ever?

Bringing his clenched fists up to his brow he let out an unnecessary breath. He had to do this... he had to let go once and for all. She was gone, dead. Whoever that girl in the institution was, it wasn't Buffy.

* * *

"Mommy? Killed them, mom, killed them." Buffy murmured as she tossed and turned in her small single bed. "No, bad slayer... not here. Can't stay... Must go down, hot, burn. Die."

Margaret took notes as she watched the small blonde sleep. It seemed that Buffy was having a dream about her mother, possibly even talking to her? But none of her ramblings seemed to make sense. Regardless the nurse took note of every word, maybe she'd be able to get through to Angel, and he would be able to work them out.

"Dead, mom, dead!" The slayer called out, and then she was silent once again.

Margaret had just proved herself wrong. Because whatever this was it wasn't a dream, as she noticed the silent tears seeping through Buffy's closed eyes. This was a nightmare, so much so that the nurse was tempted to wake her. To free the blonde from the hell she was in. But she didn't, because they needed to find out as much as they could to help her.

* * *

He should have known that shoes were a necessity. How else was he going to be able to cross all those burning coals? Angel stood on the edge of the precipice, and stared down at the angry flickering flames beneath. The only way he was going to be able to make it to the other side was if he walked across the scorching coals.

It was either taking the coals to heaven, or falling and drowning in hells flames. Neither looked appealing, it was basically either suicide, or sprinting across the burning bridge and possibly falling anyway.

Then there was always the fact that he wasn't sure if he truly even deserved heaven. Regardless of that fact, the vampire knew he had to attempt it at the very least.

It was just as he had begun his journey over the hot coals that he noticed her. She stood on the other side of hell, looking down, taking in what was awaiting her.

"Buffy." He yelled as each step brought him closer to her.

She looked up, she was dirty, the grime from the underworld thickly dabbed across her face. Her self inflicted gashes oozing with red blood, marring her features. Her emerald eyes held her sorrow, her tears almost spilling over. Looking away she glanced into the only afterlife she deserved. Taking the next three steps as quickly as she could, Buffy plunged to a death she had longed for, for the past two years.

"Buffy no..." Angel howled as he watched her gracefully dive into hells welcoming flames. His tears rushing forward when he saw the sparks flying, and the inferno consuming her.

It wasn't a moment of blind panic; it was a moment of pure love, where his heart told him what he had to do. As he ran, already having cleared half of the coals, Angel veered off to the left. Springing of the edge, he dove in after her.

* * *

Angel's eyes shot open.

A dream, it was just a dream. And she was there, Buffy was right there dreaming with him. How was he meant to escape her when she wouldn't let him? It was hard enough dealing with the fact that she was in the institution. It was bad enough living with the guilt of turning away and denying her the help she desperately needed. But to have her there, in his dreams, was just torture.

Peeling away the sheets that were pretty much glued to his sweat covered form; Angel threw his bare legs over the side of the bed. Leaning forward, using his elbows to brace himself on his knees, Angel sat there, his head in his hands.

He wished he could take back the past forty eight hours, and just wipe away everything he had seen. He wasn't that same person anymore; he didn't go out of his way to help the helpless. It was only when they sought him out that he gave a damn. But this was different. This was Buffy.

This was the one and only person that could pull him out and make him face the real world, with nothing but a look from her sad green eyes. It was hard, he'd just spent the entire night putting those walls back up, that a single night with her had torn down.

And now they were crumbling all over again.

Because for the first time in years, he could feel, really feel. It was love, and love was warm, a contrast to the chilling cold that had become his life. If anything he needed her just as much, if not more than she did him.

The idea of losing her again, having her die when he had only just found her, made his cold blood boil.

_/ What's-_

_It's Buffy /_

No, he couldn't do that again... thinking he'd lost her three times, was three too many. To know that she was a short drive away and needing him like he'd needed her when he had been brought back from hell all those years ago, made him realize what he had to do.

Getting up and out of his bed, Angel headed for the shower. Then he'd go back, and hopefully this time, he'd be able to work some kind of a miracle.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The exhausted vampire had been on the phone all morning trying to track down his old friend. Thankfully Angel had still retained a handful of connections long after Wolfram and Hart had fallen to pieces. Fifty or so calls and threats later, he managed to find someone with a number.

Now this was the hard part. Strange that he never thought that that was what it would be, only because it was simple in theory. All he had to do was press the numbers, and wait for him to answer. But the thing that made it difficult was the fact that Angel knew his friend didn't want to be answering his call.

The first time the vampire dialed, he waited for it to start ringing, and then suddenly hung up. This really wasn't something he was looking forward to, and that was only because he had no idea of what it was that he was meant to say? Possibly something along the lines of 'Hey, I know you don't want anything to do with me, but I need your help' sure, that could work... or not.

Damnit! Why did placing a simple to call to someone that he at one time had considered a close friend, seem so hard?

Taking a deep unnecessary breath Angel once again picked up the handset. Punching in the numbers, he waited, and waited. He wouldn't back out this time and simply hang up, after all this was the only chance he had of helping Buffy, and that was now his main priority.

"Hello." He heard the voice on the other end of the line, had he not had so much on his mind, Angel would have smiled. The vampire really had missed his friend.

"Lorne, it's Angel... don't hang up." He begged, it had taken a lot of guts for him to make the call, and Angel just hoped that the demon wouldn't turn him away.

"Angel?" Lorne was thrown back, he thought he had made it perfectly clear that he had no desire at all to be contacted, no matter what, he was done. As far as Lorne was concerned he had seen enough evil, and truly thought he deserved a little of the good life.

"I need your help." Angel pleaded.

The desperation in the vampire's voice was so clear that even though he wanted to, Lorne couldn't hang up. After all, Angel was a friend, and although he didn't necessarily feel that he owed the vampire in any way -that debt had been recovered when he'd shot Lindsey in cold blood- Lorne would never say no to him.

"L.A?" The green demon questioned, his stomach turning at the thought of returning to a city that he now despised with every fiber of his being. A complete turn around from the way he felt just over five years ago. Back then he would have given anything to live the rest of his long life, surrounded by the bright lights, ocean views, flashy cars, and numerous sea breezes that he had been accustomed to.

But a lot had changed, he being one thing. Time and isolation could do that to a demon.

"When can you get here?" Angel asked, hoping it wouldn't take him longer than a few hours, as he wanted Lorne there with him tonight when he went to see Buffy.

"Five or so hours." Lorne replied, before they both said a quick goodbye and hung up their phones.

* * *

The drive from the airport to the institution was made in awkward silence. Aside from the quick greeting they had made as Lorne collected his luggage, the two demons hadn't uttered a single word to one another. 

Lorne had questions, in fact there were quite a few, one being where in the hell was it that they were headed? And the second which had to be the main thing he wanted to know, was why on earth did Angel need him in the first place?

As he watched Angel weave his way through busy traffic in the darkened streets of L.A he finally did what he had been wanting to since he'd answered the phone earlier that day. "What's going on?" Lorne asked.

Angel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, how was he meant to answer that? Each time he thought about what was happening and where it was that they were headed, he wanted to scream her name, as though his own pain and suffering would make her better. And for that matter why wouldn't it? It seemed that that was all that ever happened to them, either he was hurting, or Buffy was hurting... If it turned out that they were both happy at the same time, than it was obvious that the powers weren't doing their jobs properly.

They were after all obsessed with making the warriors suffer.

"Buffy." Was the only word he could manage, it seemed that Angel was just hoping that the green demon would understand everything that was going on when he saw the blonde. Instead of having to answer questions that he really didn't want to be answering right now.

A million different things had gone through Lorne's mind from the second that he'd hung up after Angel had called earlier that day. But the one and most obvious, for some unknown reason hadn't. Buffy... why was it that Lorne didn't think that the slayer was the one that had Angel so shaken up? The more he sat in silence thinking about it now, the more he remembered, and realized why that was. "Angel... Isn't Buffy dead?"

Taking his eyes off the dark road ahead, the vampire turned his attention to his once friend. "You knew?" Was all he said, instead of the simple yes or no Lorne had been asking for.

Now it was Lorne who felt uncomfortable, how was he meant to explain this one? Yes he knew, in fact he'd been there to pick up the pieces when a distraught vampire had shown up on his door step, wanting to find a way to turn back time, or do something that would help ease the pain. "Spike." He whispered, diverting Angel's gaze, as he could already feel the mood shift. He knew exactly how Angel felt when it came to the idea alone of Spike, but associating the blonde vampire with Buffy, was one thing that pushed Angel that one step too far.

"Spike?" Angel asked, trying as hard as he could to contain the growl. With his fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles slowly turning white, Angel returned his focus to the road. Pulling one hand away for a brief moment, he flicked on the indicator, and made a right turn onto the street that would lead them to the institution.

Lorne took a deep breath. He hated talking to Angel about Spike, as from memory it never ended well. "I made him call you... you had a right to know what had happened." He knew instantly that his revelation was about to raise so many questions.

The institution was another half a mile away, but that didn't seem to stop Angel from pulling the car over to the side of the road. "Am I missing something?" He questioned the green demon, as he pulled on the hand break, and turned to face his friend. Things certainly weren't adding up, how the hell did Spike find Lorne, and for that matter why had Lorne not called himself?

Turning away from the confused vampire, Lorne fixated his gaze on the oncoming headlights of a white van, one that was most likely on its way out to pick up, or for that matter drop off, another patient. But Lorne didn't know that, as he still had no idea of where the hell it was that they were actually going. Still, anything was more appealing than looking at Angel as he questioned him.

Sure, it was in fact true that Lorne had a lot of explaining to do, but so did the vampire, as he still hadn't confessed his reasons for urging Lorne onto the first plane out of New York. "I was wondering the same thing." He replied, if Angel wanted answers, than who was to say that the demon didn't as well? "Where are we going, what does it have to do with Buffy, and why do you need my help for this?"

Suddenly everything started caving in on Angel, as Lorne's questions waited for answers. Then there was Spike, why and where had he came from? Why was it that even her death had been tainted by his presence? But then again it seemed so hard for a vampire to recall a day where his grandchilde hadn't tainted her.

Maybe that was because he'd pushed those days away, not welcoming the good memories, as it made it so much harder to let her go. What he wouldn't give to have the chance to make another good memory with her.

Opening the door, as the need to be out in the welcoming dark night was to strong a thing to fight, Angel stepped out of the car. Instantly the cool night breeze assaulted him, it seemed that the closer they got to the institution, the colder everything was. Sure that didn't affect Angel physically, but it did serve as a reminder, of how alone, cold and cut off the woman he still loved, more than he could ever put into words, was from everything.

It was then that Lorne followed, it wasn't like the old days anymore. Angel couldn't do all the questioning and turn his back when anyone else wanted answers. Things had changed, obviously they both had, and one thing for sure, Lorne wasn't such a push over anymore.

"So let me get this straight, you get me on a plane, pick me up from the airport, and rush me off to God knows where we're going, and the only explanation you see fit to give me is Buf-"

"We're going to an institution," Angel said, cutting Lorne off in the middle of his outburst, and turning to face him "Buffy's not dead Lorne, she's just... she's insane." How was it that just saying that, that word, insane, made him feel like he was giving up on her?

Lorne stopped in his tracks; he didn't know what to say. Angel just seemed to be full of surprises today, first the slayer was alive, and now she was locked up in an asylum. For the first time in years, his heart ached for another, the thought of the one girl that had done so much to save the world ending up in a place like that. And then there was Angel, the man that never seemed to escape his fate of eternal suffering. When would it be enough, when would the powers meet him half way and give him if not his reward of humanity, then at least the death he'd been craving for, for too long now?

"I'm sorry." He offered, what else could he say...

"Don't be," Angel returned, looking up at the green demon "Just help me get her back."

After holding his gaze for a moment, Lorne then turned, eyeing off the faint outline of the institution under the glow of the moonlight. He shivered, the temperature getting even cooler, the irony was not lost on him considering the season. "How?" He wondered, not sure if he'd said that to himself or out loud.

Angel took a step forward, moving closer to his friend and the opened car door. "I need you to read her." Was the last thing he said before getting back into the car and waiting for Lorne to do the same.

* * *

"No," She screamed, as the psychiatrist tried yet again to get some answers "NO!" Buffy took a step back, her hands coming up to cover her ears. 

The noise, all the noise, it was too much. Talking, talking, talking. She couldn't understand what was being said, and the only thing she could make out held a promise of death. "Watch them die Slayer." She whispered, the words although coming out of her own mouth, she mistook as coming from the approaching doctor.

"No." She cried this time, images flashing through her mind. People, people she knew... dying. Without will her body gave way, now lying face first on the floor, she continued to sob.

Flashes of angry flickering flames tearing through the building, tearing through her loved ones, as she was bound, tortured, and forced to watch. Screams so loud, of anguish and pain. Pleads, begging for it to be over, begging for her to save them. Faces she knew and loved so much, turned to ash, and all she could do was scream "Arrrrrhhh" bringing herself to her knees, Buffy tried to make it all go away. Everything, and everyone she loved had left her, and then, the last straw, his face flashed in front of her, slowly turning to ashes.

Just as the Doctor took a step closer, he then took three back, jumping away, as Buffy vomited on the floor before her, the things she'd seen making her physically ill.

Not even two minutes later, Margaret ran into the room, coming to the slayers aid, while demanding that the doctor tell her what he had said to the blonde. Sometimes the monitor's microphone wouldn't pick up every word, especially if whatever was said was whispered.

"I didn't say anything, all I asked was if she would tell me about her dreams, these new ones, and she just kept screaming." He said as he watched Margaret reach for the phone that sat snuggly in its case on her hip, clipped onto her belt. The nurse then called someone to come and clean the room, before she went about giving Buffy something to calm her, not so much knock her out, just calm her enough to be bathed.

Margaret hated seeing her in a zombie state, but it was always so much easier to wash her when she was somewhat awake.

* * *

"So... Spike." Angel finally brought the subject back up as they both stepped out of the car and began the walk up the short path to the institution. It was only fair that Lorne tell him all that he knew, considering that Angel had done so regarding his intentions on dragging the demon to L.A. 

He'd known this was coming from the moment Angel had confessed all there was to about Buffy. And he was dreading the conversation, but to be fair, Angel had answered him, and so he owed him that much in return. "Long story short?" He asked, referring to the way that the vampire would like it told, as they were just outside the institution and anyone could tell that the vampire was eager to see his love.

Just the look on his face told Lorne so much that he didn't even need an answer to that. It was funny that years ago he'd gone on with tales of Kyrumption with Fred, and how it reflected what the vampire shared with Cordelia. But the look in his eyes, that moment told him so much more, as the closer they got to Buffy the more Lorne understood about Angel's feelings and who it was that his heart had always belonged to. He wondered what it was going to be like when they were in the same room together... most likely something so much stronger than a silly word.

"You knew Spike left L.A after the big one." He said to Angel referring to their last apocalyptic battle. At his nod the demon continued with his explanation. "Well he went straight to Buffy."

Angel figured as much, but still just the knowledge of it made him want to break something, preferably a certain bleach blonde vampire's neck. Pausing at the entrance, he waited for Lorne to finish before walking inside.

"He never told me the whole story, just that he was sent out to patrol, and when he got back, the building was ablaze and that she was inside." Lorne hung his head in shame, he'd so desperately wanted to call his friend, to tell him what had happened himself, to be there for him, even if it was only over the phone. But he just couldn't do it, he couldn't go back to the people and places he had wanted to forget. "Then-

"He told me." Angel finished, knowing the rest of the story. He'd hoped that Lorne would have had a lot more information, like who, and how he could find them and make them pay.

The green demon nodded, wishing already that he could have had more useful information. "So what I was wondering is, if Spike said she was dead, why is she alive and why L.A. of all places?"

Angel opened the glass door, and let his friend walk in first. "That's the million dollar question." he returned before they made their way down the halls and to Buffy's room.

* * *

Lying there, in her catatonic like state, Buffy continued to stare at the ceiling. It was quiet now, the voices gone, the images to... nothing but silence. But that was usually worse, because the sorrow never left. She may not have been sure why she was hurting, it was easy for the blonde to forgot everything, and just go blank at times. But she was accustomed to pain, and even when it was too hard to understand, it still hurt like hell. Somehow the slayer knew that the heartache would always be a part of her life. 

In the recesses of her fragile mind she heard the door to her room open, and before she had the chance to think, to understand, not that she ever really would. It all came rushing back to her.

Fire. Smoke. Ashes. And the cold, her life... she was cold.

Slowly she rose to her feet, and walked around her room not seeing who was there, not understanding until it hit her, a sensation attacking the base of her spine, working its way through her stomach. She knew this, this feeling, vampire, demon, lov-

"Cold." She whispered as she reached out, thinking it might just be the same wall that she came in contact with on a daily basis. Touching it, hoping to find that it was something else.

Only this time it wasn't the wall, this time, her hand seemed to be touching a smoother surface. Angel's face.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Lorne watched silently from his position by the now closed door. The sight before him wasn't just beautiful, it was heartbreaking. Buffy stood before Angel, her small trembling hand cupping the vampire's cheek, re-familiarizing, or just searching, he wasn't to sure.

From what Lorne could see, even at her worst, underweight (at least he gathered as much) and tired, she was perfection, easily the most beautiful woman that the demon had ever seen. But to have seen her at her best... God, no wonder Angel was crazy about her.

He was right about that too, as Angel watched Buffy, felt her hands exploring him, tears welled within his dark eyes. The way he had looked at Cordelia years ago, didn't even hold a candle to this. Lorne wasn't just going of what he could see; he was going off what he could feel. The love that burned between the pair brought about a warmth to the otherwise cold and dark institution. When they were in the same room together, without a doubt an undeniable electricity flowed through every living thing within reach.

"Demon!" Buffy suddenly roared, pushing aside the fact that for a moment she'd began to lose what was left of her former self in his eyes. Bringing her other hand up, she also pushed Angel away, sending him a few steps back until he collided with Lorne who stood not that far behind the vampire.

And she'd forgotten again. Forgotten that it was Angel, the man that loved her, was willing to do anything he could to make things right, to take her away from this place. Initially that was what Angel had figured had been the reason for the slayers outburst, but as he regained his footing and followed her line of sight, he realized his suspicions were way off.

It was Lorne, he was a demon after all, and all the slayer had to go off was appearances, there was no longer that understanding and compassion towards creatures of night that were on her side. Or at least if there was, Buffy no longer understood it. Cautiously she backed away; too afraid if anything to make her move when she didn't have a weapon for use in defence, in fact she didn't have anything but her withering fists. If he came any closer though, she would go straight for the neck, breaking it, hoping it would be enough to kill him.

Looking up towards the window it appeared as though she were considering it as an escape. But it was quite a stretch away; something that even if she were to stand up a pair of strong broad shoulders, access to the outside world would still be unattainable. Maybe that was for the best. After all, that world had already hurt her so much.

Her mind was muddled, those voices had returned, they were all speaking to her again, telling her what to do, who to kill, and how. But she had no idea who's voice it was that she was meant to listen to.

"Buffy." A new voice spoke up. It was faint, like a distant train gliding across steel tracks, approaching a town filled with people, traffic, and fire.

Fire was all she could remember, death was all that surrounded her, death and demons.

"Buffy, it's Angel." Her head snapped up, her miserable eyes looking into deep molten pools of chocolate.

"Angel." A gentle whisper escaped her lips, his name was familiar, she knew Angel. Reaching out again, her slim fingers sought out his face. "Cold." She said for the second time that night.

"Yes." He returned, his own shaky hand slowly coming up and taking hers within his grasp. The vampire was afraid that she would push him away again, and it was something he really didn't want her to do.

"No, no, no! Angel... gone, dead." She sobbed, tearing her hand away. He'd been there... somewhere, she wasn't exactly sure... but they were happy, then he'd walked away, and taken everything she'd held dear with him.

Stepping back, as she raised her hands to her face, she began pounding her clenched fists against her brow. "Dead, dead, dead, DEAD!" She repeated, continuously hitting herself, harder and harder. It was almost as though she were trying to convince herself more so than anyone else.

"Buffy... I'm right here, I'm not dead." He offered as he cautiously took a few steps closer, catching her at the last second as she fell back onto the bed. Looking up at his demon friend, Angel voiced exactly what he was thinking.

* * *

Lorne quickly and quietly caught on and made his exit, leaving the vampire and slayer alone together. A least for a little while. 

Lorne spent most of the night outside, sitting on the cold and hard concrete steps that led up to the entrance of the institution. What he had just witnessed was without a doubt the saddest thing he'd ever seen.

Angel torn.

Not once, had he ever felt so much pain and longing, so much heartache and desperation radiating off the vampire. After everything that the green demon had watched his friend endure, this had to be the worst.

This was the sort of thing that he had put behind him, that was why after pulling the trigger and watching Lindsey slump to the floor, the dark blood seeping through his shirt, Lorne had taken off, destination unknown.

It had been that way for months; he'd been searching the world for himself, only to find that that person could never again be found. He'd come to that realization in a dingy little bar in New York, after he'd downed a deadly amount of sea breezes and whatever other alcohol had been set before him. That night he'd realized that taking a life, although the victim had been evil, had taken a piece of him.

That one piece had been very significant, it had after all been his own happiness, and now anything akin to joy he was robbed of, as his guilt would never let him go on as though nothing had ever happened.

He didn't sing anymore, didn't do much of anything but sit in his tiny little basement apartment and read fortunes by day, the only thing he could think of to make what little amount of money he needed to get by.

And so now, being back here stirred up memories, dangerous memories, ones that could push him back to the dark place he'd been five years ago, when he'd pulled out that gun, and…

Quickly shaking the thought away, Lorne knew then that the moment he read Buffy, and gave Angel his answers, he would go back, and beg the world to leave him alone as it had for the past five years.

* * *

For long and painful hours the slayer pushed the vampire away, clawing and screaming at him whenever he was close. Did she know that but a day ago Angel had walked away, leaving her to suffer all on her own? 

That was the only conclusion that Angel had drawn, she was just so mad, so upset, heartbroken, saying that he was gone, dead, and then just screaming at him in frustration for the countless things she couldn't interpret.

But nothing seemed to hurt as much as what she did to him next. "Go!" Buffy screamed, her open hand coming up to slap him across the side of the face, as her fingernails dug in, scratching him in the process. Instantly the blood rushed to the surface, as the three fine lines of his dark crimson blood appeared, contrasting with his alabaster skin.

It had hurt too. Physically without a doubt, after all she was the strongest woman in the world. But it was his soul that cried out in pain, wishing that for one moment she wouldn't just push him away. Right now, more than ever before Angel wanted to hold her in his arms, to smooth a kiss against her brow, and reassure her that he would make everything in her world better.

But that was just a fantasy, something that the vampire had to let go of, as it was going to take so much more than appearing out of nowhere to make her trust him again. He was without a doubt in for one long night.

* * *

Hours after he'd left her room, Lorne returned when Angel had come looking for him. It seemed that Buffy was right in the middle of some dream, and sobbing to herself. 

After taking a seat in the far corner of the room, he watched as Angel eased himself down beside her, and twenty long minutes later, they were both fast asleep.

* * *

All the doors and windows were wide open, and the cold night air whisked through the house, blowing the sheer white curtains back and forth as Angel approached it. 

From what he could remember from their last shared dream, this was where they lived; this was the foundation for the only happiness Buffy now knew.

"No..." suddenly a strangled cry tore through the otherwise quiet night. It had come from inside the large beach side home. In a heartbeat Angel tore through the house, searching for her.

"Buffy." Angel yelled, frantically darting in and out of each dark room, trying to find his love.

Every room offered him nothing, but open space that stank of misery. No Buffy, no heartbeat. There wasn't a single light on in the house, and it was cold, so very cold.

Calling her name out over and over, Angel began to panic, he couldn't find her anywhere. It wasn't until he entered the only room that had previously escaped his attention that he saw her.

There she was, blood dripping from her recently slit wrists as the rest of her body had slumped under the freezing bath water.

"BUFFY!" Angel screamed as he came to his knees beside the tub, and reached inside pulling her lifeless form out. Pushing aside the hair that had matted against her pale face, he started to shake her. "What have you done? Buffy, what have you... Oh God." He cried, clinging to her, hoping that this wasn't happening. Although some part of him knew this was just some horrid nightmare, when it came to Buffy, her dreams had always held such great meaning, that and the fact that it all felt too real.

All he could do was hold her, even though there was nothing left, she had completely slipped away. No heartbeat, no warmth, nothing but a shell.

"You're back." A whisper came from behind him, and he looked up just in time to see the light above him begin to flicker on and off repeatedly. Turning slightly he saw who it was that had addressed him.

His love.

But if that was her, than who was he holding? No one, or so it seemed as he looked back down to where a lifeless Buffy had been but seconds ago. She'd disappeared, nothing but the stain of her blood had remained across the edges of the tub, and his grey shirt.

"You have to leave." Buffy said, looking down at him.

Angel turned again to face her, rising to his feet; he took a few cautious steps towards her, before he finally broke. "Buffy." He said as he chocked back a sob. Reaching out he gently grabbed a hold of her wrists, turning them around only to see she was in fact bleeding. "Why?" Angel whispered, unable to believe that she would ever harm herself like this.

She couldn't look at him, not now. And so Buffy's eyes fell upon the floor as she pulled her hands away. Her wounds dripping, her life slowly being drained away. "Please just go." She almost begged, unable to let him watch her die.

"No." Angel stepped in, not letting her go on, he would never leave her again, never. "Everything's going to be okay, I just need to understand." He pled with her.

Buffy brought her head back up to look at him, he couldn't be serious, he couldn't really think that everything would be okay. There was no way that she would ever get over what she'd seen, what she'd done. "It will never be okay Angel, there's nothing left for you to understand. You should have stayed away. Please, just let me die alone." Buffy pled; there was nothing left for her here, not anymore. No family, no friends, and no escape into dreams she would give anything to spend forever in. More than ever she welcomed death, but she didn't want Angel around to witness it.

Angel thought over her words for a second, trying to think of a way to make her see that he was going to make her life worth living again. But the fact that she didn't want him around, that she wished he'd never returned, hurt him more than he'd expected it to. But that was what she was trying to do, hurt him only to push him away, so that she couldn't be saved.

"I'll never leave you Buffy, I can't. I love you too much." He whispered, reaching out for her again and this time successfully pulling her into his arms.

"No, no... please, just let me die. I want to die." She sobbed, her head buried in his chest as he gently soothed her by stroking her golden hair.

"I'm here Buffy. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here..." Angel repeated over and over, not stopping even when she begged that he did. Instead Angel kept saying the two words that even though Buffy didn't realize it at the time; she had been in need of hearing.

All he could offer her was his undivided attention, his shoulder, and himself. It seemed like he'd been holding her for hours, as she cried. But when she had quieted down and all that could be heard was Angel's voice telling his beloved that he would never leave, a sudden change occurred. Life was suddenly breathed back into the house. It was no longer cold and empty, and the distraught slayer was no longer in his arms.

Turning in search of her, his eyes fell upon the bath, and he noted that it was crystal clean, not a drop of blood anywhere. Checking his shirt, he also noted that even that had reverted back to its plain grey color.

Slowly and carefully making his way out of the bathroom he wandered through the house, following the soft melody of an Angel's voice to the kitchen. Coming to a stand still, he froze at the sight of her, as she stood there preparing dinner.

"Hey." She smiled, as she looked up at her husband, while tossing the salad. Stepping away from the food for a brief moment, she wandered on over to him, and reached up on tip toes as she gave him a kiss. "How was work?" She asked but was immediately silenced as Angel placed a finger upon her lips.

As much as he wanted to give into the moment, and play out the wonderful dream with her, he had to do what he was there to do originally. "Keep singing, I just want to watch you." Angel smiled, and then gestured for her to get back to what she was doing.

Blushing slightly, Buffy gave in, thinking that this was just Angel having one of those moments where he wanted to see her doing the normal everyday things she used to always dream of doing, like prepare dinner for them. So Buffy returned to her task, and as she did the blonde also continued to sing along to the song playing on the radio.

Angel just watched, not just glad that his friend would get a chance to read her, but he was completely mesmerized, everything about her made him fall deeper and deeper in love.

* * *

The vampire woke from his dream content, a smile gracing his lips. It was true that the dream hadn't started of in the best way possible, but in the end he'd saved her, well he'd at least returned her to that same peace that she only ever found in her unconscious state. For the first time in years he felt like he had a purpose, and for the first time since finding Buffy, he felt like he had a really good chance of saving her. 

Carefully sitting up on the bed, Angel rose trying not to wake the slayer as he did. The vampire wanted nothing more than to let her have her peace for as long as possible.

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, for a moment he'd forgotten that anyone else was in the room, until he saw Lorne, sitting there, his head hanging low, as he looked on at the vampire. The look on his friends face said it all, and whatever happiness he'd felt for that brief moment was replaced with fear.

"Lorne?" He asked, not sure he wanted to know what it was that the demon had read from Buffy. "It worked didn't it?" He wasn't sure why he had asked the question, the vampire knew it had worked. He was almost a hundred percent sure that when she had been singing in her dreams, that she'd also been doing it out loud in her sleep.

With a nod the green demon answered yes. "It worked." He faintly replied.

Angel was relieved to hear that, not that he hadn't been certain of it already. But as he now watched his friend an indescribable fear settled within the pit of his stomach. "Well, what did you see?" He asked, panicking slightly.

Lorne rose to his feet, and slowly made his way over to the door. "I can't do this Angel... this world isn't for me anymore. It's too depressing, and I'm not strong enough for it." Turning to Buffy he sighed as he watched her sleep, she just looked so peaceful when lost in her dreams. "I can see how much you love her; in fact I've never seen anything like it before. I could tell you it's hopeless, that she's too lost for you to ever be able to get her back, but I know you won't listen. I know you'll try regardless of that fact."

Angel knew all this, he knew his own feelings and he didn't need to be reminded of that, if anything it was frustrating. All he wanted to know was where to start when it came to helping her. And no matter what Lorne had seen in her, there was no way that it could all be hopeless, that was a possibility that Angel couldn't even accept.

As much as he hated hearing all this, to be fair, it was obviously something Lorne had to get off his chest, and after dragging him all the way to Los Angeles, for a personal favor, he could at the very least give him an answer. "I'll never stop trying." He whispered.

Lorne thought as much, and so he gave Angel the only answer he needed. "Find that photo." He said before walking out and closing the door behind himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

With years practice of being stealth guy under his belt, the vampire managed to use it to his advantage as he quietly, yet frantically searched the small room. All the while Buffy lay there in her warm bed, oblivious to what was going on in any world other than the one of dreams she lost herself in day after day.

Nothing was left unturned. Which really wasn't much being that her room had so little furnishings to begin with. Other than the bed she slept on, Buffy's room only consisted of a chair by the door, and a small white cushioned bureau with three small draws, which upon opening Angel found to be empty. Well almost... There was something, a book, one that he remembered well.

But how could she have still retained the present that he'd given her on her eighteenth birthday? So many years had passed since then; even the books condition told him that. In fact one would suspect that it had been so much longer, like centuries since the day he'd handed it to her with the simple inscription of 'Always'

Opening the cover there it was, his own faded handwriting staring him back in the face, along with his phone number. That was another thing he hadn't thought to question until now. But the vampire couldn't understand how the slayer had come across it.

The pair had lost contact months before he'd moved into the apartment that he now referred to as hell, with Gunn. Almost all of his friends had passed on, and the ones that were left, wouldn't even think to give it to her... well all be it but Spike. But even that possibility seemed absurd. Why would the blonde vampire do something like that? It was after all clearly obvious that he wanted the slayer for himself. And then there was something else that struck Angel as odd, how was it that the book was still around? Could it be that she had somehow managed to spare it from the underworld as it sucked Sunnydale and all that was in it, whole?

But that was just another one of those questions that seemed to go unanswered, well hopefully not for too long; hopefully this photo would help him fill in the blanks. Maybe after today she would no longer be the traumatized girl he'd come across a week ago. Maybe she would no longer be the lost cause his friend had made her out to be.

If Angel had to admit it, it still bugged him that Lorne had suggested that she was just that. And that there was minimal chance, to none, of ever bringing her out. He knew himself that that wasn't the case; in fact it had been done before.

The things that he'd seen and had done to him in hell were enough to burn his soul from the inside out, and yet he'd found salvation. The only thing ever to ignite his soul again was his undying love for the slayer, a slayer that needed that same help from him.

That was what was important, that was all that mattered, and finding this photo really was his way of finding the road to recovery for his girl. With that in mind he carefully turned each worn page in search of an answer. Suddenly remembering what Margaret had told him upon his first visit to the institution, he quickly flipped to the back, anxious to see who it was that she had a picture of.

Unfortunately he'd hit another stumbling block, as there was nothing there.

Running his hand over the now closed book, Angel then placed it back in the bottom draw, wanting it out of sight, as it only seemed to bring back memories of happier times. Ones that seemed so out of reach now. Returning to his previous task he continued to search what was left of her room, hoping yet again to luck out and find something.

Whoever or whatever it was in that photo, the one that first Margaret and now Lorne had mentioned to him, was most likely the only way to get through to her. And that was the only explanation to the vampire's desperation.

As his dark eyes continued to scan the room it came to his attention that the only thing that was left was the bed. Turning back towards his love he was relieved to find her still so content in her dreams, as it would make it so much easier to continue his search.

But that relief was soon misplaced with panic as his dark eyes caught sight of her pale blue mattress.

It was stained with blood... her blood.

As he rushed to her side, Angel wondered how was it that he'd not seen it before, and more importantly why was it even there? It made no sense, what in the world was happening to her, why were her wrists seeping? It's not like she would have just inflicted the wounds upon herself, in fact when could she have done it considering he had been there with her the whole time?

As Buffy stirred, he swiped his thumb over the dark blood, smearing it away, only to reveal that there were no cuts. What the hell was this?

Remembering the dream he recalled she had in fact cut herself, and now as he looked back down, the blood slowly vanished before his very eyes.

Could it be that their shared dreams were having a conscious affect on them? And could that in turn mean that Buffy was slowly coming closer to the surface. The possibility of the girl he spoke to in dreams coming forth gave Angel new hope.

Noting that the slayer was now ok, he returned to his task. Now searching the mattress as much as he possibly could without disturbing her. Then Angel dropped to the floor to inspect under the bed as well. After all his efforts the end result wasn't what he'd hoped for. Aside from the book her room seemed completely bare, and the whereabouts of this much desired photo were left unknown.

"Angel." Buffy murmured in her sleep, turning herself to face him as though she knew without waking that he was right there by her side.

Pulling himself up to his knees, he smiled down at the blonde as he reached out and smoothed the few stray hairs away from her face. 'Beautiful' was the only thought that came to mind as he watched her immerse herself deeper and deeper in the bliss that her subconscious created. That was when Angel noticed it, the thin paper barely sticking out of her pillow case.

Eyeing the paper for a moment, it didn't take him long to realize that it was in fact the item he'd almost torn her room apart in search of. Reaching over, he grasped the desired photograph just as Buffy stirred.

"Baby." She whispered, a small yet incredible smile crossing her lips.

With his hand still on the piece of paper Angel returned her smile, a rush of pure love slamming at full speed through his blood at the sweet endearment. He waited then for her to settle once again, before he pulled the photograph out of its hiding place and into clear view.

Well his own view at least, the vampire wasn't too sure about letting the camera pick up on what it was the slayer had a picture of when she'd tried so desperately to hide it for all these months.

Turning it over, as he blocked the monitor with his back, Angel's eyes feel upon a color photo of a presumably three year old boy.

* * *

It was the first bar that his red eyes spotted and even if it did look like a bit of a dive Lorne instructed the cab driver to pull over, and within seconds he'd paid his fare and was rushing inside. 

It seemed that by taking a step backwards into his past, and helping Angel with the slayer, it was taking its toll on the green demon, and it also seemed that sometimes old habits had a good chance of resurfacing. Maybe that was due to the fact that in the old days after he'd helped his friends win or lose whatever battle they'd been facing, he'd always celebrated with a few drinks (mainly sea breezes). And right now the idea of forgetting it all and drowning his sorrows appealed to him more than ever before.

Walking inside the dingy bar Lorne couldn't wait to down his first drink. Well that was at least until he came face to face with a rather nasty scene. A friend, one that he'd tried to forget all those years ago along with the others, sat at the bar with one hand secured on his beer bottle and the other holding his heavy head up.

At first he was thrown back, overtaken by the dark man's appearance, wondering why on earth Gunn had managed to let himself go and become the stereotypical bum that obviously spent all his time and money in places like this. But then again they had all seen and done things that would stay with them forever. And even though the green demon had killed a man in cold blood, and had that guilt creep inside and set up shop within his very soul, it was nothing compared to the guilt that his friend had to be living with.

Lorne knew that till this day Gunn had never gotten over his own part in Fred's death.

Fred. Now there was a woman that could brighten anyone's day with one of her sweet innocent smiles. A woman that had proved to them time and time again, just like Buffy had once done to Angel, that strength wasn't about size and muscle. Strength came from within, and it was something that Lorne and Gunn had both lost so long ago. And without it, it was only getting harder to retain the will to fight.

As an un-welcomed desire to burry himself deeper and deeper into his past claimed the demon, he gave in, and took the last few steps separating him from Gunn, settling himself on the bar stool beside him. Eyes straight ahead Lorne then asked the bar tender for his drink.

* * *

The resemblance was remarkable, instantly Angel knew that the young man in the photo was somehow tied to the slayer. Almost identical grey green eyes stared back at him, and that smile, he'd seen it countless times before... Could it be that the boy in the photo was her own, her son? Was it even possible? And if so then where on earth was the father? Unless that of course explained Spikes departure for England... 

Shaking the thoughts away Angel couldn't bring himself to believe it. He was certain that Buffy had put an end to their sordid relationship at least a year prior to the last time he'd seen the slayer. He was almost certain that Buffy wouldn't have welcomed the blonde vampire back into her bed... almost.

No, no, he had to believe it. She wouldn't have. So if it was in fact true, and this little adorable boy was in fact her son, then where was the father and why had he abandoned her?

For that matter where was the young man? Had the father taken him and ran when Buffy had lost her grip on reality? An urge to kill whoever it was that had just taken the easy way out and left the blonde all on her own, was undeniable. If only he knew who and where.

Again that was if the child was her own. The thought of the slayer sharing a child with anyone other than himself tore at him, he'd always hoped that one day he'd get his almighty reward and they'd have a family of their own. But even back then when he'd lost himself in those fantasies, a part of him had known that it was damn near impossible. Even if he had wanted it more than anything else in the universe.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the picture, that unlike the book was in almost perfect condition, Angel failed to notice the slayer stir.

* * *

It didn't take Gunn too long to notice who it was that had welcomed themselves to the stool at the bar beside him. Nor did he seem to care. Maybe that was due to the fact that nothing aside from an empty bottle or for that matter wallet seemed to upset him anymore than his own guilt already had. 

Maybe it was also due to the fact that like himself, Lorne felt there was no need for conversation. And so ordering himself another drink he sat there beside his old friend and continued to waste what was left of his worthless existence.

The green demon seemed just as happy to do the same.

* * *

Her body shifted slightly against the mattress, and her eyelids slowly fluttered open. A smile crossed her dry lips, and then within a second her memories rushed back to her. 

The blood, the sheer pain of torture, flames, and the screaming. Would it never end? Charcoaled bones crunching beneath her feet, and her head spinning. She was too late. Her family, her world... gone.

The tears sprung forth almost instantly. She couldn't move, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. The pain as every other day was unbearable.

Searching, searching, only to find nothing but emptiness. Was her world always this dark, didn't she have someone; didn't she have more than this?

'Watch them die slayer!' The voice echoed from deep within her very soul, as a sob tore from her throat. She shot up off the bed only to come face to face with him.

He was there; he was going to save them all.

No, no, she shook her head in confusion. He wasn't. He was too late. Days, or maybe even years. She wasn't sure exactly, she just knew they were dead. All dead.

Her face contorted in pain, and her legs trembled, as though they were refusing to hold her up, and then she saw it. The only thing she had left, in his hands.

"NOOOOOOOO!" She screeched, so loud and piercing that the small window near the ceiling held a great possibility of shattering into tiny fragments from the high pitched wail alone.

With her eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness that surrounded her, she snatched the photo from Angel's hands, and pulled it tightly against her chest. Holding it as though it were a real baby in desperate need of comfort from its mother.

Tears poured down her cheeks furiously, as she whispered gibberish to the photo, soothing it as though it had been hurt. Turning she gently placed the picture on the bed and pulled up the sheets, covering it, trying to offer it warmth and protection. Then she turned on him...

At full speed the boney slayer charged at the vampire. Her fists cracking into his chest one after the other. "NOOOO, NOOOO, NOOO!" She continued to screech, over and over again. Her fists now pounding in unison against his muscular physique.

Angel wasn't sure how to react, he wanted to help her, to take a step forward instead of three back. But as it turned out, Lorne was wrong.

Finding the photo wasn't the way to help her; it was only to make him realize that in this case time couldn't and for that matter wouldn't heal all wounds. Instead, she would only get worse.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

He stood by her door. Watching through the tiny window as she repeatedly cursed his name for the simple act of discovering her photo. Every word was spat from her mouth in pure anger and distaste, as the tears continued to fall, never ceasing, not even for a second.

The whole time that Angel watched his eyes held hers, and all he could see was the hatred within them. Finding that picture had been a mistake, there had obviously been a reason behind the slayer feeling the need to keep it hidden. It was so clear now that if anything would worsen her condition, it would be anyone touching something she obviously treasured so much.

And what had he done? He'd basically gone behind her back, all because the vampire had been told it was the only way to put her on the road to recovery. What a lie that had turned out to be. This wasn't anything akin to recovering. This was regression.

More and more Angel started to believe it was her son he'd laid eyes upon only moments ago. One thing was the resemblance. But the other, the one that really made him believe, was this. Buffy's reaction.

It was as simple as that. There were no other answers. The only thing that could explain why she was currently watching him as though she were about to kill him with her bare hands, was because he'd just touched the only thing she had left. The only thing that still made sense to her when nothing else could.

The way her eyes had lit up at the sight of the little boy had been spectacular. Easily resembling a mother's when seeing their child.

That was when he realized it; Angel knew what he had to do. He knew then how to bring the girl in their dreams to the surface. Stepping away from her door, he went to talk to the only person he could think of to help him with his plan.

* * *

Had he not been so self involved and preoccupied with the idea of getting so drunk that he'd be staggering to the closest hotel, Lorne would have noticed the way Gunn had been watching him for the past thirty minutes. It wasn't until the green demon got up off the bar stool and started his walk on shaky legs towards the men's room that he noticed Gunn's line of sight. His piercing dark eyes were staring right at him. 

"What are you doing here?" Gunn almost spat. At first he was happy to sit there and ignore Lorne, pretending he wasn't there while he continued to down beer after beer. But now he couldn't even try to hide the fact that he was curious.

Lorne paused, averting Gunn's stare by turning his head to the side. He couldn't look anyone (let alone his once friend) in the eye and tell them that this was what he'd become. Even if Gunn had pretty much followed the same destructive path.

So to answer his question, what was he meant to say? 'Just stopping by for a few drinks before getting on my merry way back to New York' Or 'Hoping some homicidal maniac will run in here, and put us all out of our misery.' As appealing as both replies were, he decided neither really suited. Instead he brought his glowing red eyes up to look at him and said "Wasting away." Before continuing his previously abandoned path to the men's room.

Once Lorne was out of sight, Gunn turned his attention back to his almost empty beer. "Me too." He whispered, before asking the bar tender for another.

* * *

"Somebody help me!" The vampire snapped, he'd been waiting for at least twenty minutes at the nurses quarters for any one of them to stop doing whatever it was that they seemed to class as work (not that he'd ever considered flicking through magazines while drinking insane amounts of coffee as work) to give him but one minute of their time. 

Instead they'd ignored his presence. Choosing to look past him at the clock that hung on the wall behind the vampire, as they made personal phone calls, when ever he'd ask if they were busy.

Now he'd had enough. All he wanted was to speak to the nurse that was meant to be tending to his upset slayer. Margaret, that's who he wanted. But no, talking on phones and reading trash was so much more important to them than his love. An urge to do something he'd regret was undeniable, but as always he had to deny it. Buffy was so much more important than killing everyone in sight.

"I'm sorry sir, we weren't aware that you required our assistance." A blonde, barely twenty nurse replied. Was she even old enough to be a qualified nurse? If not, then why was she working there? That wasn't really important, all that was, was Buffy.

Trying to calm himself as much as he possibly could, Angel asked one of the nurses if he could speak to Margaret. When the blonde nurse who's name tag read 'Rebecca' questioned what it was that he wanted from Margaret, or if she could be of any assistance as she practically undressed the vampire with her eyes, he simply snorted and replied. 'Right now I'm so frustrated that I'd rather tear your head off than hear another thing you have to say.' Ok so maybe those words had just floated around inside his head, and hadn't actually managed to escape his lips. "Margaret, no one else." The vampire insisted before backing away and returning to his spot by Buffy's door.

* * *

As he bound Buffy's hands behind her back, Angel kept his eyes closed. The first time he'd seen the nurse sedate her, he'd wanted to hit something. Now he just wanted to hit himself. 

"NO, NO!" Buffy begged, unable to stress enough her discomfort at being in Angel's arms. "NO ANGEL, NO!" She wailed, and all the vampire could do was stand there, swallowing the lump in his throat as he bit back the tears that doing this to her brought forward.

"Please, please..." That was the last thing she'd managed to say before the sedative set to work, and slowly the body that had been trying desperately to escape his grasp fell limp in his arms.

"I'm sorry." Angel whispered, as he gently eased her down onto the bed. And waited til Margaret left the room before he joined the blonde, and beckoned sleep to overtake him too.

* * *

Echoes. That was all he could hear. What seemed like a child's laugh on replay. It wasn't haunting, it was sweet, and it filled him with love. Could this be the voice of the nameless boy in the photo? 

He hoped as much.

Angel stood dead still in the empty living room within his dream home. The one he shared with Buffy. He had no idea where she was, or what was going on, but he was content to stay there and just listen to the toddler laugh for as long as possible. The sound was so innocent, so delicate, it made him smile.

"He's five years old now, you know." Came a broken whisper from behind him.

Angel turned only to be greeted with her face, her beautiful sad face. She sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with her legs outstretched, yet crossed at the ankles in front of her. A few quick steps and before he knew it he'd taken a seat beside her.

For what seemed like an eternity the pair sat there in an awkward silence, before finally Angel decided to speak up. "I'm sorry I've upset you." He said, his voice dripping with regret for laying hands on her photo.

Her eyes remained trained on her own hands in her lap. "It's okay... here. But out there, the photo... it's just so painful." She just refused to look at him, Angel could see that much.

Pulling his own eyes away, he stared straight ahead, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to make her understand he was only trying to help. So instead he tried another angle. "He's beautiful." Angel referred to the image he'd seen not long ago in the picture.

"He is." She returned. Her eyes slowly welling with tears at the thought of the little boy.

"He's your's." Angel stated, already knowing it was true. But for some odd reason he needed her to clarify it. If he was ever going to get his answers, then here in their shared dreams was the place to look. And what better way than to ask her out right?

"He is." Again she gave him the same answer. Simple, quick, to the point.

He wanted to smile at the thought of her being a mother. Of her holding a child in her arms and loving it with every ounce of her heart and soul. He wanted to but couldn't.

She wasn't happy, something was wrong here. It was either that, or Angel just couldn't be happy about her having a baby to another man. Maybe it was both. Either way it brought up another question he wanted (yet had no right to) answers for. "Is he with his father?"

That was his plan, finding the father, and therefore finding the child and bringing him to her. He just knew that upon seeing her son, the Buffy inside would awaken, and resurface.

Slowly her head tilted, and their eyes met. Her own where overflown with unshed tears. "No." she choked.

Angel felt his heart contract in agony at the shattered look on her face. "Buffy?" He was right before, something was horribly wrong here. And not only that but now he had no idea of figuring out where her son was. He couldn't have stayed with anyone else, all her family and friends were dead. This wasn't adding up, where could he have gotten to?

"Daddy!" Angel looked up just in time to see a beautiful child with grey green eyes, a heart melting smile and chocolate brown hair running towards him. The boy jumped into his arms, throwing his own around Angel's shoulders.

Instinctively, like he'd done it a thousand times before, Angel wrapped his arms around the young man, holding him close, something that felt so familiar. Maybe that was because he was Buffy's after all.

It took Angel a few confusing seconds before he realized what the young boy had said.

He'd called him Daddy...

'He's five years old now, you know.' Buffy's earlier words echoed inside his head. The boy in his arms was five, five! And he'd called him daddy... could it be? "No." Angel said pulling away from the child that knew no better.

The boy looked hurt, confused even. Why was his father pushing him away? "Daddy, are you mad at me?" He questioned a just as confused Angel. Turning to look at the blonde beside him he was shocked to see her gripping her face in pure agony as she bawled into her open hands.

"Buffy?" Angel just looked at her, his confusion more evident than before. "Buffy?" He repeated when she gave him no answer and only cried harder.

Releasing herself from her hands, her face met his and she tried so hard not to notice the look on Angel's face. "I'm so sorry." She blubbered before bursting out in tears again.

"He's mine." Angel whispered. Another piece to the jigsaw falling into place.

One. Two. Three... Four hours... Angel could have sworn he'd sat there staring at Buffy for just that long. Shocked, hurt, but more than anything confused. "How?"

Buffy gave him no reply, all she could do was watch his every move, his every emotional reaction and cry like her shattered world had just been fractured all over again.

"How, damn it, how!" He demanded of her. He knew he was meant to be calm and patient with her, but this, this was just too much.

She only cried harder, and it seemed an eternity before she'd regained herself enough to open her mouth and speak again. "Six years ago, you came to Sunnydale to help me. We... we made love, and..." The tears came hotter and faster than ever before. A secret that she'd kept so long was slowly spilling from her lips, a secret that had torn her up inside over and over again the whole time she'd kept it.

"And..." Angel's voice wavered. He didn't know what to do, what to think. How, how, how! If this was even possible, then how could she have kept something like this from him?

"And I got pregnant. And you can say whatever you want about vampires being unable to conceive but I know. I felt it deep inside... He's yours." She sobbed. "Besides there wasn't anyone else, so he's just yours okay!" Now she was angry, not at Angel, although for a second there it appeared that way.

And yet still her eyes couldn't maintain his. It seemed that Buffy just couldn't handle the disappointment she'd see there, and above all the hatred. Maybe she had a valid reason for that too. Maybe it was due to the fact that in the last two years she'd seen enough pain and suffering and above all hatred, that anymore would well and truly send her beyond the point of no return. And then speaking to her, even in dreams, wouldn't be an option.

Sure Angel was upset; he had every right to be. There was his son, in front of him, a son he never knew existed until now. And still the only thing on his mind seemed to be the word son. He had a son, a son with Buffy. So she'd kept it from him, sure that had been a big mistake, but he knew now, and that was something.

He wasn't mad at her, and even if he wanted to be, Angel knew it was something he wasn't allowed. He couldn't cause her any more damage than what had already been done. And he wouldn't. Instead, as the pair watched the boy burry himself in his toys and play, he turned to her and said "Tell me all about him... every detail." A smile crossing his handsome face.

Her frightened eyes scanned his for a brief moment before welling with tears all over again. One more time Buffy lost control. "No, no... I can't. I can't go there... it... it's like when I'm awake. It's so dark Angel. No!" She rambled on and on. And yet again Angel was at a loss for what to try next.

That was when a sickening feeling slowly crept through his body, sending cold chills through him. "Where is he?" Angel questioned, and with each second that passed him by in silence, he couldn't help but let fear overwhelm him.

If Buffy had of spoken in that moment, not a word would have been audible. As her tears returned so furiously that all Angel could do was watch on in horror.

"Damn it Buffy, tell me where he is!" He insisted. This wasn't a game. And although he knew that Buffy wasn't exactly playing with him, he had to know what the hell was going on. "Tell me!" He demanded of her once again, only this time raising his voice.

Her eyes met his again, and all Angel could see was emptiness within them. "He's... dead." The sound that escaped her lips when she spoke those two words was so devastating, so heart wrenching.

The boy disappeared completely out of sight. Solid steel barriers shot up in a circle around them. Angel sat there, on the living room floor next to her, on the verge of losing control. Buffy's words played over and over in his mind. And still he couldn't understand what was happening.

Was it real? Was the boy he'd just discovered to be his own really gone? Could she be right? Was he... dead? "No, no!" Angel's head shook from side to side. There was no way he could discover something so amazing as fathering Buffy's child only to have it ripped away form him. No way at all.

"You're lying." He whispered, his frightened eyes scanning her face, taking in the turmoil that hung within her own.

With a crashing sound, similar to the waves on the shore just outside their beachside home, those steel walls fell away and all Angel could do was scream. "No..."

How could anything hurt so much? Especially considering Angel had just met the victim he seemed to be grieving. The answer was simple... That little boy was beautiful, he was Buffy's... he was his own son. He was made out of love, and he didn't deserve to be dead. If he was five years old then he was meant to be at home, playing with his toy soldiers, coloring in a picture, drawing on the walls, climbing a tree, or helping his mother make a mess in the kitchen. Damn it he was meant to be alive! Not dead, not ever dead.

Why was this happening? Why him, why now? Why his son... Questions went unanswered, as Angel just couldn't think of why anyone would ever want to harm an innocent little boy. Then he remembered what he'd done so many years ago minus the soul. He'd killed so many innocent children in the name of art. He'd taken pleasure in watching their parents suffer. Suffer just like he was now.

In a micro second he jumped to his feet. Looking up, straight up to the ceiling he shouted to no one in particular. "I'll get you for this... I'll kill you!" He choked, biting back the tears. He couldn't cry, couldn't allow himself to feel pain when she was there, she needed him, needed his strength.

She who had kept such a big secret from him. A secret so beautiful that he'd discovered too late. Angel had never gotten a chance to know his son. As angry as he was he wouldn't blame her without discovering her reason. And the fact that she was so sick was the only thing stopping him from walking away. No for now he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. He'd be there for her. He'd try to understand why, at least until he got his real answers.

And the first one he wanted, he didn't see being a problem. "What's his name?" Angel made a point of not using past tense when asking about the boy. Even if Buffy herself had stated that he was dead, he didn't want to act as though the boy was just a painful reminder of a past that had destroyed her.

He waited patiently for her to say it. But when thirty seconds passed Angel turned to find her gone.

"Laim honey, go wake up daddy and tell him breakfast is ready." Came a sweet voice from the kitchen. One that bubbled with happiness. A voice that to this day haunted him, yet at the same time made him feel more alive than a beating heart ever would.

"Okay." their son replied. Another angelic voice. Angel felt his heat swell at the sensation of hearing two precious angel's carry out a simply day to day conversation.

Liam. She'd named him after him. He remembered telling her years ago of his real name. All Angel wanted to do was find a hole, burry himself inside and cry until there were no more tears left to shed. But unfortunately the dream he seemed to have no desire of ever leaving had other ideas. Before he knew what was happening, he was in bed, just coming to as though he'd been asleep for hours.

The weight suddenly shifted on that same bed, and in seconds he had a toddler jumping on top of him, demanding him to wake up with a smile on his face as he did so.

Sitting up so he could get a look at the situation, Angel realized exactly what was going on. He was falling in love all over again. Only this time with Liam, his own flesh and blood.

Pulling the child into his arms, Angel held him close. Not wanting to let go, not even for a second.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"My boy..." Angel whispered as he held onto his son for dear life. Running his hands through Liam's thick dark hair, without hesitation he then wrapped them around the child's back and pulled him even closer. Right then Angel swore he would give anything just to hold him a little tighter. It seemed as though he actually thought that it would somehow stop himself from slipping away and returning to reality.

But that would be fighting the inevitable, because when it came down to it, Angel had noticed that whenever he was getting somewhere in these shared dreams he'd wake up to find everything he could ever hope for was ripped away. And if it were to happen again, he knew that after what he'd seen, what he'd discovered, and what he was now holding within his arms... it would truly be the end of him.

And although he didn't want to let go, and lose that contact with his newly discovered son, he had to.

Pulling away to get a look at the most amazing thing he'd ever seen, Angel couldn't refrain from running his large open hands down either side of Liam's face. God his son was just so beautiful... so precious.

His dark eyes flooded with tears, tears of joy, and yet at the same time of sadness. How could he be gone? It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. There had to be something Angel could do to reverse the situation. A spell or... something.

"Daddy?" Liam stared at his father, a little confused by the sudden tears welling within his eyes. "Are you sad?" He asked, wanting to understand. "Did you have a scary dream?"

"No." Blinking back his tears yet again, as he reassured his son. "I'm finally happy." He added, his hands still resting on the little boys face. As hard as it was to believe that this young man was his own, Angel couldn't deny the bliss that the idea alone brought him.

Leaning forward Liam almost mimicked his father's actions as he placed his own hands over Angel's eyes. "Don't cry daddy." He said before pulling his tiny hands away only to have them come to rest on Angel's cheeks. "If you're happy you have to smile." He told his father, a concerned look in his own emerald eyes.

Even if this wasn't real, and he would wake up at any moment and face the truth. Angel couldn't help but let the most blinding smile creep across his face. He'd just have to deal with the pain later, right now wasn't the time.

Right now he had a chance that no man in their right mind would ever let go to waste. A chance to get to know his son.

* * *

After Liam dragged him out of bed, Angel started his day at the kitchen table, watching his son take in mouthful after mouthful of pancakes. Not long after that he watched children's movies and pretended to be as fascinated by what was going on as Liam was. He took him outside and chased him along the beach. He played catch out in the backyard with him as the sun set. 

He then tucked the greatest wonder of the world into bed and read him a bed time story, before watching him sleep with teary eyes as he took in the rise and fall of the boy's chest.

Then with great sadness, Angel kissed his son goodbye...

* * *

Seconds after he woke, he jumped out of bed with a start. Where was he, where was Liam? 

Turning as though he were expecting to come face to face with his son asleep in his bed. Angel was startled to find Buffy there instead. A frown creased his brow at the sight. Not that seeing his love was something that upset him, but rather where had his son run off too?

Turning his head back the other way, as the room slowly started spinning, Angel started to realize where he was, and what was going on.

He was back. And in a place that resembled hell.

The dream wasn't real like he'd hoped it to be. And now after being shown heaven for a day, he had to again fall back into his own world. A world full of darkness and despair. A world where he was a vampire and had lost just about everything imaginable that held any meaning in his poor excuse of a life.

A world where his love was insane and his son was dead.

"Arrrhh..." His face contorted in pain as his legs gave way, bringing him to his knees. It was suddenly so clear now, why Buffy was here, and why she hid herself in her own dreams. Her child was dead. Their child. "No..." Angel howled, and for the first time in as long as he could remember Angel cried. His hands clutching his face as he rocked forward and hit the floor.

Lying face first, he sobbed against the floor tiles, before pulling away one hand and clenching it into a fist as he repeatedly slammed it down, so hard the marble surface cracked. "Liam... No!" He sobbed, unable to contain the pain any longer.

He'd held it in and been so strong when it came to Buffy, but this... this was just the icing on the cake. This on top of everything else was excruciating. How on earth was he meant to deal with something so damn horrific?

How was he meant to stand there and tell Buffy that everything was going to be ok, when now he honestly didn't believe it ever would?

* * *

At the first crack of a barstool across his back, Lorne had just figured that someone wasn't too pleased at the sight of a demon sitting at a bar drinking. That always seemed to get him into trouble. Most of the time he could shrug it off by simply telling onlookers he was just in costume as it was a part of his job. They never really wanted to know more than that. Mainly because they usually didn't believe him, but they would still steer clear of him regardless of that fact. And ones that did believe him wouldn't pester him with anymore questions once he'd told them it wasn't any of their business. 

But after pulling himself up to his knees and taking a good look around the establishment he noticed that the dingy bar seemed to play a second home to a lot of the underworld. Just his luck that he'd choose a place where most other demons had already marked their territory.

When the demon, the one he still hadn't gotten the chance to lay eyes on as he seemed to have a fascination with attacking him from behind, picked up yet another stool ready to strike again, he was interrupted.

It seemed that even after spending the past five years feeding his body nothing but poison in the form of alcohol, Gunn's reflexes were still as amazing as ever. His hand reached out, yanking the chair away from the vampire and breaking it over his head. Then using the one piece he still retained to slam it through the badly dressed creature's heart.

Turning to face the other onlookers, ones that had too many horns and scales and some with ones in wrong places, Gunn offered them a challenge. "Anyone want a crack at green here?" He said, pointing the makeshift stake in his hand in Lorne's direction. "If so, you come through me."

Nobody said a word; instead they turned their attention back towards their drinks, to afraid to go up against the upset ex-demon hunter. It seemed that maybe this wasn't the first time that Gunn had lashed out.

"I don't need your help." Lorne insisted. Backing away from his once friend as he rose to his feet and headed for the exit.

"And I don't need yours." Gunn spat. Causing Lorne to pause, and then turn to face him. "If Angel sent you here to spare me, then save it... It's too late." he said before picking up the bottle, finishing the rest of his beer and making his own exit out the back of the club.

Lorne was a little shocked at Gunn's reply, but then again what was he expecting, the man to beg him for help? No that wasn't Gunn's style. Still why would he think that Angel had sent the demon to help him? What the hell was going on?

Funny that before he'd gotten onto that plane and flown out to Los Angeles, he couldn't have cared less about anyone other than himself. But now that didn't seem the case at all.

He'd cared when he'd seen Angel at breaking point. He'd cared when he'd read the slayer and discovered that she was completely gone. And now as he watched Gunn walk away, he cared yet again.

As much as he tried to fight it, it seemed that parts of his former self were being awakened. And the only thing left to do now was to figure out whether that was a good thing, or a bad one.

* * *

The slayer woke from her slumber to the sound of a vampire howling in pure agony. 

She slid off the bed quietly, as though she were trying to get past the creature without it noticing.

Waking up to find him screaming like that, screaming like she'd heard her family scream as she watched them die... It got to her. In fact it shook the slayer to the very core.

And as the memories poured through that sickening sound of fire melting skin swirled around inside her head. And in ways it stood out more than the screaming.

But the desperate wails coming from the vampire who was now slowly pulling himself up off the floor and coming to his knees once again, reminded her of back then. Of what they did to her, and most importantly her family.

For over three years she'd done as she'd been told. She'd listened to Giles and Spike when they'd told her what was best. She's listened because she'd known that if she'd dare crossed them, them being the people that she still couldn't remember clearly. She'd repressed so much since the incident. Their names were lost somewhere inside her head, but their faces... their faces she'd never forget.

But to this day she remembered knowing that if the truth ever got out. As much as she'd guarded Liam with her life, they'd manage to find a way to kill him. And sadly, they eventually had.

So in the end doing the right thing and obeying orders had only turned out to be wrong.

Trying like she did everyday to push the unwanted thoughts away, although again without success, Buffy padded over towards the door. And as soon as she reached it, her clenched fists immediately set to work on their daily routine of pounding so furiously against it, begging yet again for freedom.

But just like every other day, it wasn't delivered. Instead she felt a pair of cold arms wrap around her, and pull her close. She flinched almost instantly, trying to get away, not wanting for a moment to have him touching her.

She knew it was Angel. And she remembered what he'd done to her. He'd tried to take everything from her. Her baby... she'd woken up and he was in his hands. Her baby. Angel had tried to take Liam away. "No..." Buffy screamed, throwing her arms and legs in all directions.

"Shhh, sweetheart." He whispered against her ear. "I understand Buffy. I understand." Tears flowed freely down his pale cheeks as he continued his attempt of soothing her. "I know now my love. It's Liam... he's our son."

Buffy stilled in his arms. And her confusion was evident. There were a lot of things she couldn't remember, but one thing she was sure of was that Angel had no idea that Liam was his own flesh and blood. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe Angel had known all along. Maybe that house by the beach and everything in it was real, and wherever she was now was just a nightmare.

No, no. She shook her head, because she was sure that this was reality. As cruel as it was, this was her life.

"I know why it hurts so much, and why you feel like you can't go on. I know he's gone my love." At those last few words, Buffy finally gave in. Slumping against him. It was just too hard trying to fight the pain all the time.

"I killed..." She barely whispered. Her silent tears slipping down her flushed cheeks.

Angel only tightened his hold on her. Pulling her back so tightly against his chest as his head slowly dipped to rest in the crook of her neck. "No, you didn't." Angel still wasn't sure of what had happened, but one thing he was sure of was that Buffy truly loved their child. He'd witnessed that when he saw her looking at the photo. So there was no way in the world that she would ever have done anything to bring him harm. "But I promise you, whoever did it. I swear Buffy; I'll take care of them." He insisted, as he continued to hold his love while they cried over their lost son together.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Blood.

It was all he could see. It was all he wanted. As though somehow it could have made up for what they did to his son. Nothing would ever do that. Because nothing would ever bring him back. And the mere thought alone was heartbreaking. How could it be that such a sweet little innocent boy could have been singled out, and harmed? The same boy that upon meeting, Angel immediately feel in love with. Liam, his precious child.

Three weeks had come to pass since the dream he'd shared with Buffy and discovered that startling information. And in those three weeks the furious vampire had spent whatever time he had away from the slayer searching for Liam's murderer.

As it turned out he didn't have far to look. Yesterday after Angel had finally found his old friend again. Lorne had been able to relay what he'd read from Buffy and hadn't chosen to share with him at the time.

Lorne also gave him the who. But that was all. The green demon couldn't tell him where to start looking; instead Angel had to find that out on his own. And every time the vampire got a little closer to the killer's murderer, Buffy kept pulling him back. And yet she never made one move. Instead some part of her tortured soul screamed for him, begging him to stop searching. Telling him that the answers were just too horrific.

He continuously reassured her that no matter what he found he would be there for her. And that they would deal with it together. But Buffy still seemed to disagree. And only four words told him that. "No. You hate me." It was all she would say when the subject was raised. All she thought about whenever Angel was around and his own thoughts were on his son and his tragic death.

And now as Angel drove back towards the institution after yet another failed attempt at finding a person that he wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug or shake the answers out of, he realized why his search bothered Buffy the way it did. And the vampire wanted to kick himself for not seeing it much sooner.

* * *

She sat still. Barely on the edge of her bed. Her healing hands folded in her lap. Her straw like hair tucked neatly behind her ears. And her motionless eyes staring so vehemently at the wall. That wall, it always taunted her. Showing her pictures.

Death, blood... fire.

That wall was her one true enemy, and every time she tried she could never defeat it.

There were times when its cool surface offered her warmth, and protection. And she could draw peace from it just by doing something as simple as closing her eyes and leaning against it. But that was before he came along. Now it only resembled hate.

She slipped off the edge of the bed, her hands clenched tightly together, before breaking free. Her hair fell forward, shadowing her hardened face, and eyes that were now darker than before, as she moved slowly.

Death.

She promised it to every single one of them. They would pay, over and over again. With whatever weapon she could get her hands on. A knife, to stab them with numerous times before finally giving in and slitting their throats. A stake, again with the stabbing; only this time in places no human could bare the pain of. A gun, but what would be the fun in that? Where were the slow and painful deaths she secretly promised? She wanted them to suffer, and that's what would happen. So weapons wouldn't do. No instead she would kill them like any warrior would.

Her vicious bare hands would be their slow and excruciating destruction. She would tie them up like they had done to her. Then she would beat them for hours.

The slayer crawled across the marble floor. Her slim body resembling that of a ferocious feline preparing for its attack. Ready to make its kill. A kill that no animal ever attempted half heartedly. A kill for revenge.

In not even a second flat she sprung to life. Leaping for the white wall. Clawing, and then pounding with her fists, trying to break through. To get to what she was seeing. To save her family, and offer the kill she promised to the evil souls inflicting the pain upon them.

But like any other time she tried, it wouldn't work. She couldn't reach them. And she was left face to face with a wall that was cool to the touch (like him) and an anger that refused to dissipate. That wall, it held everything for her. It resembled her world. And she never knew whether she was meant to hate it, or love it for that. This time as the picture faded from sight, the hate seemed to win out as it burned so brightly in her eyes. And this time unlike every other instead of continuing with her fists she opted for another way to express her aggravation. With two shaky hands trembling for a thirst of desperate revenge, Buffy forced them palm down against the wall with a loud smack. Then not even a second later, her head followed that pattern, cracking against the wall. Tainting it yet again with her dark blood.

* * *

In all the years Gunn had spent living on the streets with his sister fighting the good fight, trying as hard as they possibly could to rid the world of a few more demons Gunn knew that he'd never stooped as low as to stay at a filthy place such as this shelter, or whatever the hell it was.

But things had well and truly come to that. He had no money, and whatever he did manage to get his hands on usually went on cheap booze, and just as cheap sex. It was all about making him feel something. Anything than the loneliness he'd bought upon himself.

It seemed that in the last decade he'd managed to lose everyone that ever meant anything at all to him. From Alonna, right down to Angel.

It was his own fault though, he knew that much himself. He wasn't stupid. The alcohol may have fucked up his memory, but things like that had been burnt into his damned soul. He screwed everything up, and after the first drop of liquor, he didn't seem to care anymore.

And now as he ran his hand over his closely shaven scalp, trying to ease the pounding in his head, 'hair of the dog' was the only thing on his menu.

Pouring himself a shot of whisky, as his eyes adjusted to the light spilling in from the dilapidated roof. Gunn hoped that alcohol would have an affect on his sense of smell as well as everything else. Funny that his hygiene had well and truly gone down hill when it was one thing he'd always been known to maintain. But again that was years ago. When he was a better man. Now he couldn't even refer to himself as that three letter word. But another came to mind. Now he was nothing but a bum.

And yet after a few more shots, he'd be fine with that.

One person who wouldn't, stayed back. Watching him, as he stuck to the shadows. And although he'd seen the image before he still found it hard to believe that the dark man before him was once a champion. After everything Gunn had done, after all the battles he'd fought to be not only a man, but a true warrior, Lorne couldn't believe that alcohol, the same poison that had helped him secure his own case of depression had been powerful enough to take his friend down as well.

That was when the decision was made. After all he gave a damn about him, even though he wished he didn't, Lorne couldn't do anything but. So he stepped forward, showing himself. Hoping he could do something to help, and maybe in the process of doing that, he'd be able to help himself as well.

* * *

The blood blurred her vision, seeping from the wound, through her hair, and down her brow. But that didn't stop her.

Crack, scream, crack.

She continued to thrust her head into the wall. Desperately trying to rid herself of the frustration, the anger, but most of all the horrid pain inside. But as usual, it didn't work. It never would.

She cried desperately. Howling in pure agony. He was dead, in every sense of the word. And yet again her sick mind was making her relive the moment. And every image was so real, that she swore she could actually feel it. And that she was there.

_The scorching flames singeing her skin. The smoke filling her senses, and the screams of agony, so loud they were deafening. "Dawnie!" She could hear her, her baby sister. Dying._

Blood mixed with tears, and yet again she didn't stop.

Crack, scream, crack.

_"Mommy." A strangled cough erupted through the flames._

_Her eyes flew open. Red and watering from the smoke, she struggled to see. He was faint, so far away, and she had so little time... "Liam!" Buffy screamed._

_No one answered, and all the slayer could hear was the building creak, and break, as the room started to cave in. "No!" She screamed again. Searching from side to side, trying to find him. Rushing from room to room, until she could barely see where she was going._

_Pausing briefly by the six foot window, that was almost pitch black from the flames, she closed her eyes, and tried to breathe. Just wanting to listen, to feel..._

_Thump, thump, thump, thump..._

_His heart, she could hear it beating. It was crazy; her hearing was never that good. Buffy couldn't explain it, maybe it had something to do with that mother/child bond she'd often read about while pregnant in all those 'What to expect when you're expecting' kind of books. All she knew was that she could feel/hear him reaching out to her, and she wouldn't turn away. "Baby." she whispered as she took a step towards him, eyes still closed, tears streaming down her face._

_Thump, thump, thump..._

_The building exploded, and so did her world._

_Shards of broken glass flew from every direction, as her body was thrown through the second floor window. And outside, on the ground, she lay there, blood surrounding her._

Crack, scream, crack.

After what could have easily been the twentieth time of pounding her fragile skull into that wall, Buffy felt her body being pulled away. She felt his arms wrap around her so tightly, then everything faded to black.

Frantic and noticing she'd passed out; Angel swooped her into his arms and carried her out of the room within seconds. As he searched the hospital for Margaret.

* * *

For twenty four hours Angel did nothing but sit by her bed. Cursing himself constantly.

He never should have left her alone, she wouldn't be here, and most certainly not like this. Lying flat on her back. Her eyes closed, her face almost pale, and her body hooked up to more machines then he'd seen in over two hundred and fifty years, forcing her to live.

He hated himself so much for setting out on his search. Sure revenge over his son's death was something he wanted desperately, and it was also something he was deprived of, and sure he'd wanted to know who it was that had beat him to it. But he should have realized that his answers had been staring him right in the face the whole time.

She'd done it. Buffy had killed the people responsible. One of them being Quentin Travers. Angel had originally thought him dead and buried when the council exploded years ago. But as it turned out he'd been anything but. Another thing the vampire didn't have the answers to. It seemed that the deeper he dug the more questions he raised.

And yet he wasn't even half way done. Quentin's was after all the only name Angel had come across in the past few weeks. And since then his face had been on instant reply in his mind. As Angel envisioned all the things he would have done to the council leader if he'd gotten his hands on him first.

But as it turned out Buffy had beaten him to it. She'd become a murderer to justify the deaths of her family and friends. And now on top of everything else, it was eating away at her.

If only he'd of known, he would have found a way to make her see that what she'd done wasn't murder, and that she had no reason at all to feel guilt over it.

Angel couldn't help but feel completely responsible as he sat there, waiting and hoping that her slayer strength would get her frail body out of this mess, and bring her back to him. All he needed was one more chance, and if it were granted, Angel knew he wouldn't fail her ever again.

He finally realized that getting his answers was something that had to wait. As it wasn't really helping him accomplish the most important thing. That being getting back the girl he'd lost years ago.


	11. Chapter 11

Big thank you to all my wonderful reviewer's. I wish I couldn't update everyday just for you guys. Your comments make my day, so again thank you!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The hospital was dead silent. Well to Angel at least. Something had managed to draw in his undivided attention. That something being a very ill slayer. There she was, merely meters away, lying in her hospital bed after having been rushed to the ER from the institution well over twenty-four hours ago.

Nothing seemed to register to the shaken vampire other than the fact that Buffy still hadn't regained consciousness, and if anything she looked even weaker than before. And that thought alone scared him, yet he couldn't figure why.

He sat still watching her. Never once turning his gaze away. Afraid that if he did she would wake alone and afraid, or even worse... she would die. But Angel wouldn't let that happen, so for that reason alone he concentrated on nothing but her seemingly peaceful form.

It turned out that even the doctor's constant chatter out in the hall by his loves door wouldn't pull him away. It was only now and then that he would eavesdrop and that was only because he would hear them mention her name while flicking through her case file. But that didn't seem to happen often. In fact it was so rare that it only led Angel to believe that whatever was happening to her was being kept from him. This then only led him to wonder if maybe there was a lot he didn't know about.

Like why was it that they had constantly pumped medication into her when she was in the institution? Sure they'd always given her something to calm her, but there were other meds as well. Ones that although he never voiced his concerns about, or invested a lot of thought in, he still noticed. And for some reason Angel never thought to question them until now. Could it be that there was something seriously wrong with her, and he just never knew? Something worse than being mentally ill?

No. He couldn't think like that. He knew everything, physically she was okay. He had to believe that, especially now.

One long miserable day had passed since he'd found her in her room pounding her skull against the wall. Since he'd felt her body give in and slum into his arms. One whole day and yet still there was no sign of improvement. In fact it was quite the opposite. The slayer was slowly fading away.

He'd set up vigil by her bed, and when doctors or nurses came in to attend to her, he refused to leave. He would never leave her again. He'd made that mistake once and look what had happened. No, from now on Buffy would be guarded constantly, as he just couldn't trust anyone alone with her.

* * *

As he'd done all day Angel stuck to the shadows as the golden rays of the dying sun spilled through the half closed blinds, and streaked the walls of her room. He could have asked someone to close the blinds, or even draw the dark curtains earlier, at least for his own safety. But he couldn't bare the thought of keeping her hidden away in darkness anymore. Her skin and hair had lost the glow that had once captivated him, and there was no way he'd deny her of it any longer. Besides, he'd still managed to find a spot beside her that kept him out of harms way. Well that was at least until the sun started its slow yet steady dip, down over the horizon.

So he'd relocated and sat on the floor in the corner, just behind the door. And even well after the sun had set he couldn't move, as he couldn't do anything other than look at her and will himself not to cry. She just looked so... gone. Sure she was there, lying in bed, all that technology forcing her body to do the things it should be able to naturally do. But it just wasn't right, it wasn't meant to be happening. But then again after the blood loss and the fact that she'd almost died in his arms as the institutions paramedics rushed her to the hospital, he was lucky she was still here with him at all.

And that's where she was going to stay. No matter what, she wasn't going to die. He just wouldn't let that happen.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to her dark room slowly creaked open, revealing Margaret. It appeared as though she'd come straight from work as she still wore her white tunic.

Angel said nothing as she slowly walked into the room; after all it wasn't as if Margaret wasn't aware that he was there. Where else would he be? Instead he just watched as the nurse crept up to Buffy's bedside.

He saw the faintest sliver of a smile cover her face. A sad one at that. It seemed as though Margaret had given up hope and again it was something that Angel questioned. Why was it that the doctor's weren't doing anything more to heal her? Why were they all just giving up?

Looking at the girl that had managed to stir strong emotions within her, Margaret pushed back her tears. Now wasn't the time, no matter how much it hurt. She'd cry when she was alone, where no one else could see just how much this girl meant to her.

The nurse just couldn't believe she'd let herself get so attached, when she was always the one to advise other nurses that it was never a good idea. But she couldn't help it, Buffy was special, and Margaret had known that from day one.

She was strong, yet at the same time so emotionally weak it was heartbreaking. Margaret couldn't help but open up her heart to the poor girl. And now there was a very high chance that she wasn't going to survive these last lot of injuries. But with her condition Margaret was surprised that the slayer's body hadn't given up months ago. But now it just seemed inevitable, and there was nothing left for the nurse to do but let go. "Goodbye sweetheart. I hope you find peace at last." Margaret whispered to the slayer as she lay there, making no reaction at all to the nurse's words. Her hand then swept over the blondes brow and soothed the hair away before she turned for the door. It was always so much harder letting go of the patients that desperately needed help, and yet couldn't be helped at the same time.

In the corner the vampire stood with a worried look on his face. Why was Margaret saying goodbye?

As the nurse made her way towards the door she finally noticed Angel who emerged from his hiding place, and she offered him a comforting smile then went to step around him.

He stopped her in her tracks. "What's going on?" He almost demanded of her as his hand latched onto her arm, and when she tried to pull it free, his grip only tightened.

Her eyes flew to his hand almost instantly, and the short nurse stood there waiting for the man to release her. "I was just saying good-"

"Goodbye? I heard." Angel spat back at the unsuspecting nurse. Which then caused her to think that maybe he was losing his mind, and why on earth was his death grip only getting tighter?

"Ahh," her eyes remained trained on his hand, and she watched with sheer fascination as his knuckles came close to tearing through his alabaster skin "you're hurting me." She stated with a tremble in her voice, as her eyes met with those of a vicious creature not happy about being kept out in the dark.

For the first time ever Margaret saw just how much this patient meant to him. Not that his previous actions weren't testimony enough to that. But this, this feeling. God it was so strong. Even she could feel it, flowing in thick waves, slamming through her like a rough blow to the stomach, and almost knocking her clear off her feet. The melancholy, the absolute desperation, and above all the pure love. It was more than she could take, and yet she was just an outsider. For Angel this had to be so much worse than she'd first imagined upon meeting him. It was funny how one look alone told her just about everything she'd wanted to know about the slayer. Or more likely, what she was to this tall dark man... his world.

"Then answer my question!" He shook her by the arm and pulled her a little closer, as his other hand secured her free arm. "Tell me what's going on." he snarled.

"I-I can't." It was barely a whisper, but Angel heard it loud and clear.

"Margaret I don't have time for games. Something's seriously wrong here." his eyes settled on Buffy and her unconscious body for a brief moment, before he again returned his attention back to the nurse. "I need you to tell me everything you know so I can do something." He almost begged.

It was then that any fear she'd previously felt as he held her and silently refused to let go dissipated. Instead all she could do was feel sympathy for the man. Here he was trying desperately to find a cure, to make things better when there was no chance of that ever happening. "There's nothing you can do." She sadly stated as she tried to ease herself out of his hold, taking a small step backwards.

"You don't know that." Angel demanded, his grip not lessoning, not even for a second. "You don't know us." He whispered this time, and once again his eyes fell on his beautiful slayer. No matter what anyone said he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. Besides, these people didn't know, they didn't understand the things the pair had overcome together. And not just the misery and heartache, but the demons... the darkness. Anything that was thrown their way, they could and would always be able to beat it.

Margaret just didn't know that because she didn't understand them, or their world.

But one person that did was Lorne. And all Angel could remember was Lorne telling him she was gone, a lost cause even. But he didn't believe him, in fact he refused to. As a simple reading just wasn't enough to change his mind. No one knew Buffy like he did. And if he believed in her, than that was all she needed. His strength, his love. A warrior fighting for her.

A frown crossed Margaret's face at his words, and as she spoke Angel shook his thoughts away. "You love her, don't you?" It was simple question. So simple that Margaret was already sure of the answer. And at the same time she couldn't understand why it had taken her so long to see it.

Angel didn't verbally give her an answer, but his eyes said everything. He didn't just love her, he couldn't live without her. "I'm sorry." Was all she could say.

Letting out an unnecessary breath as he pulled one hand away to pinch the bridge of his nose, Angel tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him. Buffy needed his strength, she didn't need him breaking down and losing it. "Don't be sorry; just know that if you tell me, I can help her."

"I wish I could believe that, but..." she didn't want to finish her train of thought. In fact she wasn't allowed to. It would be violating the law. Buffy was her patient and her case was confidential. And yet still, something told Margaret that if Buffy were able to put the words together, Angel would have known the whole story from day one. So with that in mind, she set out to break his heart. "She has cancer."

This time instead of his grip tightening even more so, he set Margaret free. He then stepped backwards, and led himself out of the room as he shook his head from side to side.

"I'm hearing things." he mumbled, as he slumped against the wall with his eyes cast downwards.

His hands rose in closed fists, covering his ears to block out the noise. It was as though suddenly that silent hospital was buzzing to life, and it was just too much. From the Doctor's, patients, family members and numerous machines. It was overkill.

"I'm sorry." Margaret offered as she followed him out of Buffy's room and into the hospitals hall. She knew she'd done the wrong thing by telling him, she was never meant to share information on a patient's condition with anyone but immediate family. That was why she'd only given out so much when he'd first come to the slayer's aid weeks ago.

But now it was obvious that the blonde had no one else. And it was also obvious that if anyone was going to ease the girl's suffering at least a little, it would be Angel. He had a right to know, even if it wouldn't make things better, it would certainly make them easier on the poor girl.

"Shut up!" He spat back. She wasn't meant to apologize, because then that meant that it was real, that he'd really heard the nurse say... "No." He shook his head, and his fists punched against his ears so hard that had he of been human, he would have done some serious damage to himself. He just wanted to block her out so desperately, because then that meant that it wasn't real, and Buffy wasn't dying.

The thought alone tore at him. It was bad enough knowing she was unreachable, and that she was so lost and broken that she no longer made sense of reality. But for her to be sick, and with a fatal illness. No! He couldn't bare the thought of losing her again. Three times was too much damn it! He just couldn't survive a fourth.

"I'm sorry." she repeated, before turning away from the vampire and heading for the exit.

He raised his head slowly, and watched her retreating form for a brief moment before shouting out after her. "You can't do that." He practically begged. "You can't tell me this bullshit and then just walk away." He wasn't pleading this time, instead the words were a hiss from his lips.

Margaret stopped and turned to face the distraught man. No she couldn't do that. That much she knew herself. It was cruel, giving him nothing but those three fatal words.

"What do you want to know?" She asked, as she watched Angel push himself off the wall and catch up to her.

"Everything you know, every damn detail!" He insisted, still unable to believe that he was willing to listen to this bullshit. Because that was just what it was, fucking bullshit!

Margaret nodded, for once not giving a damn about the repercussions. "Okay."

* * *

This time Angel was completely alone as he sat out by Buffy's bedroom door, on the floor, using every ounce of his vampire strength to bite back his tears. Margaret's words swum around inside his head, and as much as he tried he couldn't push them away. He couldn't even label them as bullshit anymore and dismiss them like they were moronic to begin with.

The girl on the other side of the wall he was currently slumped against was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop that. For the first time in he couldn't even remember how long he would watch another die of natural causes (natural being that no vampires, demons, spells or anything paranormal was involved, himself included).

And it wasn't just anyone; it was the one woman he'd given up everything that ever meant anything to him for. The most important being his humanity years ago. He hadn't even second guessed it, he'd pretty much been told that was the price and he'd gladly paid. Knowing deep down that he was sparing her life.

If given the chance he'd do it again. But who would grant him such a wish? Who would care enough to spare his love when they'd already tortured her so cruelly? She'd been through so much. She'd witnessed the deaths of loved ones and it had driven her to insanity, and now there was something else. Something that no matter what, the vampire had no chance of beating. There wasn't a thing in the world that could cure her cancer. Margaret had repeated that to him at least ten times. She'd told him it was so severe that she was surprised the blonde had managed to survive this long. And after last night, and the serious battering her head had received, Margaret was sure that the brain tumour was ready to do its worst.

She'd told him of the doctor's diagnosis too. That they'd given her a day, maybe two if she was lucky. And that she would most likely hemorrhage while still in her coma, yet thanks to that unconscious state she wouldn't feel any pain. With that new found knowledge came the realization that he was about to lose her again.

It hurt more than any pain he'd ever experienced before. Which turned out to be a lot of both the physical and emotional. He'd lost so much over the last two hundred and fifty (and change) years. He'd even been tortured in the most physically painful ways imaginable and yet that pain paled in comparison to this. This hurt so much that he wanted to die. Anything than merely existing without her again.

All he wanted in that moment was to hold her. To tell her he loved her and to hear it in return. Knowing that that was something that wasn't exactly unattainable Angel forced himself off the floor. Reaching out he twisted the handle on the door to her room and slowly crept inside.

By the looks of things he didn't have much time left with her, so he couldn't waste his only chance to tell her that he needed her. That he loved her so much that this time round her death would surely kill him. Easing himself onto the bed beside her, he grabbed a hold of her small fragile hand. And held on for dear life as he fell asleep and invaded her dreams.

* * *

He couldn't see through the darkness. It surrounded him so much that he his own form wasn't even visible. So he walked along slowly with his arms outstretched beside him, trying to feel his way through. But nothing was there to be felt. Nothing but his own pain. It was excruciating, it felt like his inner turmoil was seeping from thousands of tiny gashes that covered his body from head to toe.

He could feel the blood dripping, and chilling winds that whirled around him. The strange thing was that with those winds came no sound. And the darkness seemed never-ending as he continued on, searching for the light... searching for her.

With his arms still out beside him, he stretched out his long fingers as far as they could go and finally he felt something. It was small, but still it was something. He looked over in the direction of his hand and noticed that there was something settling on his index finger. It was some sort of glowing insect, a firefly maybe? He wasn't sure. But it seemed oddly still, as though the gusts of the tornado like winds weren't disturbing it in the slightest.

Angel started to move his digits hoping it would fly away so he would then in turn be able to follow it. As though it would somehow lead him to her. But the insect didn't move, it stayed put, as though it were waiting for something. No even a second later Angel finally heard something, and it wasn't the ferocious winds that whirled around him sending his short hair and clothing in all directions. It was something so subtle. A slight humming...

Another insect settled on his fingers, followed by another, and another, and so on. Before he knew what was happening he was surrounded by them. Hundreds of thousands of glowing wasps? Was that what he was seeing? And that humming had increased, so much so that it was deafening.

The insects swirled around him, creating a tornado like effect before they started attacking him on any patch of exposed skin they could find. And that only really left his hands and face.

The insects stung his flesh over and over, and Angel tried to swat them away, but it was useless. They were everywhere. And then in the next moment they mysteriously disappeared, and Angel could see why.

There was light ahead, and she was incased in that light. She stood but meters before him.

But for the first time in their shared dreams she looked dramatically different. In fact she almost resembled herself on the day he'd found her in the institution. And for the first time her appearance gave away that she was seriously ill. Her face was so ghostly, and it was just so strange considering that usually in their dreams she resembled the Buffy he'd known years ago.

"Buffy?" He asked confused.

"Get out." The slayer growled.

Her words threw Angel a little and he couldn't help but flinch at them. He thought they were getting somewhere in these dreams. He thought she wanted him there.

Regardless Angel knew that there was no way he was about to leave. He was after all desperate to talk to her, and above anything else… to hold her.

"Buffy please." He stepped forward, and regretted it almost instantly.

"GET OUT!" She screamed as her hands pulled in fistfuls of her dirty blonde hair.

The sound was so devastating, and so physically painful? Angel who had brought his hands up to his ears to try in a vain attempt to block out the piercing howl pulled them away only to see they were covered in blood.

* * *

He woke up not even ten minutes after he'd fallen asleep beside her and instantly rubbed at his ears, wanting to reassure himself that it had just been a dream. But dream or not, the blood was still there.

**TBC**


End file.
